Albus Potter and the Mirror of Erised
by HPfanGleekForLife
Summary: Albus Potter can't wait to begin his first year at Hogwarts, but what will await him? As he joins forces with Scorpius Malfoy, gets bitten by a Venomous Tentacula and plays Quidditch, he begins to unravel the past his father never told him about...R&R!
1. Arriving at Hogwarts

**_A/N: So this is basically my take on Albus and Rose's first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I've done my best with what we were given in the Epilogue and hopefully have turned it into something you'll enjoy - so, here we go! Chapter one starts more or less where the Epilogue left off. Don't forget to review!_**

**_***_**

_CHAPTER ONE_

_Arriving at Hogwarts_

Standing on the warm platform of Hogsmeade station, Albus adjusted his plain black school robes, looking around him intently, trying to get a good peer around the station. It was brightly lit, and the orange light spread along the whole platform. All around him, students were standing, packed together like sardines, chatting and whispering and conferring. Most of them, like Albus, were eleven years old and brand new first-years. Each of them were wearing pain black robes, an item on everyone's Hogwarts lists that they had received by owl post just a few weeks before.

"First years over here, please! This way, first years only! Come on, now, be quick. Line up over here, please!" the voice of a young woman cut clear across the noisy chatter of students. "Come on, now, no time to dawdle!" there was a sudden movement, and all at once the students began making their way towards the end of the station.

Albus Potter hurried forward, pushing his way through the throng of tightly-packed students to where the woman was standing. Close behind him was Rose Weasley, freckled with a mane of bright red hair. She caught up with him in seconds, and they fell into step, making for the lengthening queue of students lining up near the edge of the cliff, a flight of wooden steps leading down the rock face and right up to the smooth, gleaming lake beneath. They had glimpsed it briefly from the scarlet steam train that had brought them there, the famous Hogwarts Express.

Albus and Rose took their places in the long line of children, each the age of eleven, all looking around expectantly. He went onto his tiptoes, peering round.

"How are we supposed to get across the lake?" a voice nearby asked. The speaker had an Irish accent. Albus spotted about two dozen wooden boats, all tied up at the bank of the lake. This seemed like the answer to the student's question. He turned round.

"They've got boats for us. I think we go in those" Albus said, shrugging.

"I thought it would be a bit cold for swimming" a young girl stepped forward, hazel eyes shining in the light. She had wavy, chestnut-brown hair, and olive skin.

"Me name's Molly. Molly Finnigan. What's yours?" the girl, Molly, asked him. He smiled.

"I'm Albus. Albus Potter" he answered.

"You're never! You're Harry Potter's son?" Molly enquired in disbelief. Albus nodded.

"Well, that's something you don't hear every day. I'm very pleased to meet you, Albus" Molly grinned. "Best hope you and I will be in the same house!" she laughed. Albus decided he liked Molly a lot. She seemed very interested in him, and he was OK with that. He realised that being the son of the Boy Who Lived was going to get him very far at Hogwarts.

"Everybody here? OK then. I'm Violet Sinistra, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. I'm also the daughter of Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy Department. Alright? I'll be taking you to Hogwarts, so if you'll follow me down to the boats, please! This way!" Violet Sinistra waved her hand as a signal for them to go down after her. With difficulty, about a hundred or so students made their way down the wooden steps towards the boats.

The wooden boat rocked unsteadily on the glassy black surface of the lake as Albus stepped out of it, craning his neck to get a better look at the view stretching in front of him. Silhouetted against the dark, inky blue sky, was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had appeared gigantic all the way from the Black Lake. Now it seemed of monstrous proportions, particularly to about a hundred small children. All around him, dozens of first-year students were gasping in awe, gazing upon the brightly lit castle with utter excitement.

"We're finally here! Can you believe it?" Rose whispered animatedly in Albus' ear, her curls of flaming red hair bouncing around her shoulders as she spun round to get a better look. Rose was one of Albus' closest friends, with whom he had grown up ever since he could remember. In the orange glow of the lamp that she was holding, he noticed that her face was flushed with happiness, her lips parted in a huge smile. Albus smiled himself, adrenalin pumping through the veins of his eleven-year old self, giddy with excitement. He looked around, and saw Molly smiling at him from a few feet away. He returned her gesture with a grin that spread from one ear to the other.

"D'you think we'll be in Gryffindor?" Albus whispered.

"Of course" Rose said. "Our parents were, and their parents before them. Gryffindor is where we belong. Why?" she asked. Albus shrugged.

"James kept saying that I would be in Slytherin. He wouldn't stop going on about it until Mum shut him up. He said that because _our_ Dad was nearly in Slytherin, he was sure that I would be. But I don't _want_ to be in Slytherin." Albus explained, a pained expression appearing on his face for a split second.

"You won't be in Slytherin" Rose assured him. Albus remembered something that his father had said to him on Platform 9 ¾, just before he had boarded the Hogwarts Express. He'd been worried about what James had said, and had told his father his anxieties. _The Sorting hat takes your own opinion into account_. _It did for me_.

It had turned out that the Sorting Hat had been going to put him in Slytherin, but because he had been so intent on _not_ being sorted into Slytherin, the hat had chosen Gryffindor instead. One of the main reasons was that he did not want to be in the same house as Draco Malfoy. Albus thought hard about this.

"You're right" he told Rose. "I probably won't be. James was just winding me up. He does that a lot" Albus said pointedly. James _did_ wind him up an awful lot. He decided not to give it any more thought. Of course he would be in Gryffindor, no question about it.

"Right, come on! Better get you up to the castle so you can all get sorted. Come on, quickly!"

After weeks of waiting, of sitting on his bed wondering, he was finally here. He was finally going to learn how to be a wizard.


	2. The Sorting Hat Perplexed

_CHAPTER TWO_

_The Sorting Hat Perplexed_

The first-year students were lead through the Entrance Hall, which had been lavishly decorated, and were told to wait outside a pair of giant oak doors. Violet Sinistra, now that Albus could see her properly, was a short woman with bright blue eyes and raven black hair, pink cheeks and a full figure. She looked about twenty years old, maybe twenty-five.

Violet disappeared momentarily, a long, deep purple cloak sweeping the stone floor behind her. As the doors swung open, Albus caught a glimpse of what could only be the Great Hall, full of cheery, welcoming light. He noticed four long wooden tables, stretching from one end of the huge room to the other, and he knew from what his parents – and James – had told him, that these were the four house tables. He wondered which one was Gryffindor table, and who would be sitting at it. He knew that his older brother would be there somewhere, talking animatedly with his friends, no doubt telling them about Albus' arrival at Hogwarts.

The doors opened again, and Violet returned, this time with a portly, middle-aged wizard with circular glasses and emerald green robes. Horace Slughorn beamed at the new students.

"Well, let's get these inside and sorted, shall we, Violet? I'll take them from here" Slughorn beckoned the students to follow him. Violet left for the main doors, nodding appreciatively at Slughorn.

He pushed open the doors, which creaked on their hinges under such force, and walked on, his boots clicking on the stone floor as he went. About a hundred and twenty anxious students followed, including Albus, Rose and Molly Finnigan. He noticed that the students around him had begun whispering to each other, conferring their thoughts and views about their current situation.

As they entered, almost a thousand faces turned to look at them. Albus felt immediately self-conscious. He was never keen on people looking at him, and this was no different. Rose held onto his arm, whispering "Just act natural. They _are_ going to be looking at you, because you're new". This did not help much. Walking down the long aisle between the two middle tables, the only new students in the enormous golden cavern of the Great Hall, it was expected for an eleven-year-old to feel self-conscious.

He looked up at the ceiling, expecting golden carved angels and a diamond chandelier, but then he remembered that James had told him the ceiling was bewitched to look like the night sky outside. Tonight, it was a clear, even navy blue, dotted with sparkling stars. There wasn't a cloud in sight, and the moon shone like a large coin against the inky darkness.

His heart leapt into his mouth, however, once they had reached the flight of steps ascending up to the High Table where the staff sat. A tiny, bearded wizard with a crooked nose came up onto the platform carrying a three-legged stool, which he placed in front of a podium shaped like an eagle with a golden beak. Three candles flickered either side of the eagles' spread wings, casting an eerie glow on the stool. Then, the same wizard brought an old, battered pointed hat up to the platform, and placed that on top of the stool. Albus knew this to be the Sorting Hat. He swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Slughorn had returned to the staff table to exchange a few words with a surly-looking woman on Albus' right, and then walked up to the podium.

"First years, when I call your name, you may come up here and I will put the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses. Is that clear?" he paused for breath as if expecting an answer, then began to read from the list.

"Celestia Ashworth" a small girl with dark blonde hair stepped nervously up to the platform, sat on the stool, and Slughorn placed the Sorting Hat on her head. It remained silent for a few moments, before a tear near the brim of the hat opened wide and the hat yelled, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

There was a loud cheer from the table on the far left, and Celestia Ashworth jumped off the stool, her face flushed pink with pleasure, to join the rest of the Hufflepuff students.

"Liam Anthony" Slughorn called out, and a tall boy with pale brown hair went up and sat on the stool. The hat had barely touched his head before yelling out; "RAVENCLAW!" and Liam went to join the rest of his house. Albus bit his lip nervously.

For next few minutes there was the to-ing and fro-ing of students of all different shapes and sizes, colour skins and heights. It was only when they reached Lucia O'Neill, and that she was sorted into Hufflepuff, that Albus started to panic. He would be next, as his name, Potter, followed Lucia's. He held his breath.

"Albus Potter"

"Good luck" Rose whispered to him as he made for the steps. He smiled at her. He ascended the steps with difficulty, praying that no one had noticed that his legs were shaking so much he could barely stand up properly. He went up onto the platform. The entire hall was deadly quiet. They were all waiting to see which house the middle child of the Boy Who Lived was going to be sorted in. The Sorting Hat was placed on his head.

"Hmmm" the Sorting Hat pondered. "This is going to be difficult….yes, I see potential here….a possible Ravenclaw, yet…you have the makings of a true Gryffindor. It's all here, but where to put you? Hufflepuff, maybe…no, no, you're too intelligent. Gryffindor…." _Please, Gryffindor, yes, Gryffindor, please!_ Albus thought to himself. The Sorting Hat read his mind.

"Gryffindor, eh? How extraordinarily like your father you are…he also chose Gryffindor, too, despite the fact that he would have done well in Slytherin. Oh, yes, a fine Slytherin he would have made too. Well, this is perplexing. You have courage, boy, and lots of it…bravery, intelligence, a Ravenclaw….yet...Gryffindor?" the Sorting Hat thought for a few seconds.

"Very well. Gryffindor it is!" he Hat paused again, then yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!" and the Hat was taken from his head. Albus exhaled in relief, and jumped off the stool happily to an eruption of cheers from the first table on the right. He hadn't been sorted into Slytherin after all, like James had said he would.

He joined the Gryffindor table in giddy excitement, sitting himself down in an empty space between two other first-years that had been sorted into Gryffindor; Molly Finnigan, and a blonde boy with brown eyes who Albus recognized as Brendan McMillan.

"Congratulations! You made it into Gryffindor!" Molly said happily. Albus grinned. All he needed now was for Rose to join him, and then he would be really happy.

Quite a few people turned in their seats to greet him, and he returned their greeting with many a 'hello' and 'yes, I am James' younger brother'. He looked along the line, down the table, and spotted his brother sitting on the opposite row. He caught Albus' eye, and nodded his congratulations towards him. He knew that James would start ignoring the minute he set foot at Hogwarts – but it was a comfort to know he wasn't completely embarrassed that his younger brother had ended up in the same house as him.

"That your brother?" Molly asked. Albus nodded.

"Yeah, that's James. I've got another sister, too, but she won't be starting here for another two years yet. Her name's Lily" Albus explained.

"I've got a brother, Jack, and a younger sister called Paddy. But their not my real brother and sister, just half. Same dad, different Mums." Molly grinned. "Hey, isn't that your friend? The girl you were with?" Albus turned round to see Rose walking towards the Sorting Hat. Albus crossed his fingers under the table. There was silence, and then a loud cry of "GRYFFINDOR!"

Albus cheered along with the rest of the Gryffindor students, clapping and smiling at Rose as she came towards him, and sat herself down opposite him. Her face was pink and flushed, and her eyes were shining.

"Mum and Dad are going to be so pleased!" she said, clapping her hands together. "They hoped I'd be in Gryffindor".

The Sorting Ceremony ended a short while afterwards, when a black girl called Esmeralda Zabini, who had bright green eyes and high cheekbones, was sorted into Slytherin (like a number of students before her). Slughorn took the stool and hat away, and then stepped up to the podium again. He opened his mouth, and introduced himself as Horace Slughorn, Potions master of Hogwarts and Deputy Head teacher. He also pointed out other members of staff sitting at the High Table, as well as a few of the school governors that were placed at either end of the table.

He followed by going through a couple of ground rules, reminding everyone that the Forbidden Forest was out of bounds to anyone in the school, and that entry to the dungeons were prohibited except for lessons. But Albus has stopped listening early on in the speech, because he had caught the eye of a blonde boy sitting at the Slytherin table, who was glaring at him icily from the far end of the room with piercing blue eyes that sent a shiver down Albus' spine. He was sure he had seen the boy somewhere before, but he couldn't remember where. And he didn't like the feeling he gave him one little bit.


	3. Scorpius Malfoy

_CHAPTER THREE_

_Scorpius Malfoy_

Lessons began the morning after their arrival. During breakfast, their timetables were handed out by Professor Slughorn, who told them that their lessons would begin straight after breakfast. Albus looked at his own timetable, as did Rose and Molly who were seated either side of him.

"Oh, great. We've got double Charms with the Slytherins now, and then Defence against the Dark Arts, also with the Slytherins. What a hoot that's going to be" Molly said sarcastically, eyeing up her own timetable with distinct displeasure. Albus didn't know what to say to that. Surely _all_ Slytherin students weren't as bad as he had been told they were?

"I can't wait to start History of Magic, it should be really exciting to learn about what it was like here centuries ago" Rose piped up, her face flushed pink once again. Albus and Molly just stared at her.

"You've got to be joking! Didn't your dad say that History of Magic was, and still is, the most boring, sleep-inducing subject ever invented?" Albus asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend. Rose just shrugged.

"Just because he didn't try in any of the lessons" she answered pointedly, her nose buried in an edition of _Transfiguration for Beginners_.

"Still, he's got you to do all the fishing around for him now. Aren't you supposed to be the brains of the family? You and your Mum, I mean" Albus said, reaching down for his bag and pulling it onto his lap. He rummaged around in it for a few moments, searching for something he couldn't quite figure out. Then he found it; his fingers brushed against the smooth, worn parchment. He pulled it out, laying flat on the table in front of him. He moved his goblet so as not to spill anything on it.

"If we get lost, we can always use this" Albus said, beaming proudly.

"Albus, your dad said you weren't allowed to bring that! It's really valuable!" Rose exclaimed.

"Shhh! I don't want anyone to hear us talking about it, OK? So keep your voice down" he swallowed, "anyway, my granddad helped write this, so it's a family heirloom" he added, nodding. Molly looked on in puzzlement.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The Marauders Map" Albus replied.

"It's nothing" Rose cut in sharply. "It's not important. Keep it, Albus, before someone sees" she said.

Luckily, the bell rang just at that moment, signalling the end of breakfast and the start of lessons. Albus quickly returned the map to his bag, careful not to crease it, and stood up. Molly and Rose followed, not wanting to be late. The three of them rushed out of the Great Hall, out into the corridor, and up a flight of stone steps to the Charms classroom, where their teacher, tiny Professor Flitwick, was supposed to be waiting for them.

*

The Charms classroom was full of the babbling chatter of the anxious new students, all waiting to see what they would be taught. Tapestries depicting all kinds of enchantments hung on the wood-panelled walls; Albus stared at them, trying to work out which was which. He could only recognize one, the Levitating Charm, by the snowy white feather suspended in mid-air on its beige tapestry background. Rose, who had taken the seat next to him, had her wand and books out already; she was busy studying a chapter from their set textbook, _A Beginners Guide to Charming_, and wasn't paying much attention to her surroundings.

Just then, the heavy wooden door swung open, and tiny Professor Flitwick, an old man with tufts of white, wavy hair, tottered into the classroom, his arms full of books. The class quietened at once, all eyes turned on their new teacher. Flitwick walked up to his desk, and dropped the books onto it with a loud slap.

"Good morning, students! I am Professor Filius Flitwick, your Charms teacher at Hogwarts. I hope you all have your wands?" he looked around the classroom from his perch on a purple velvet stool in front of his desk. There was a low murmur from the students as they answered his question. Rose looked up from her book to give her wand a little wave, just to prove she had it with her. Professor Flitwick continued.

"Jolly good, jolly good. Now, today, we will just be discussing a few of the simple basics of charming objects. As it's your first lesson, we won't be doing anything practical today" – there was a low groan from some of students in the class – "but in the next few lessons we will be studying levitation. To start with, I'm going to ask you to copy down these notes" – he waved his wand toward the blackboard, where several lines of chalk writing appeared – "into your textbooks, please, while I call out the register. Okay? Everyone understand? Good" he turned away from them with a beaming smile, and went around the back of his desk, where he pulled out a giant volume of a book, worn and fraying at the edges of the age-old leather binding.

"He sounds nice" Albus whispered to Rose once the class had started the task set for them. "I heard he runs the school choir, too. Dad says they always used to perform at Christmas" He started to write down the notes on the board in his round, childish handwriting. Rose was already on the third point, her hand flying down the page, scribbling away eagerly. Albus rolled his eyes, but squinted back at the blackboard to read the words. _Charms and enchantments are known to be fundamental in a witch or wizard's education_ he wrote _being one of the first things a witch or wizard learns. Charms, if well practiced, can be used for all sorts of things, including providing solutions to perplexing situations, where charming can be used to create a pathway in resolving the problem_. _However, there are specific laws regarding charming that must be taken into account. The four main laws of charming are – _

"Albus Potter?" Professor Flitwick called out. Albus looked up – and there was a sudden outbreak of hushed whispers amongst the class. Even the tiny professor seemed surprised.

"Here, professor" Albus replied; but students all around him were whispering to their friends, "Potter? As in _Harry_ Potter?" Albus wriggled uncomfortably in his seat. He knew that his name would attract attention, being the son of a very famous wizard. But it made him uncomfortable anyway. He wasn't one who liked to be in the limelight; unlike his brother James, he preferred to shy away from being the centre of attention. Albus looked around, and found that at least a dozen pair of eyes was focused on him; some were friendly, some were surprised, some were in awe; and some, coming from the students wearing emerald and silver on their robes, were giving him looks of what could only be described as dislike. He ignored them, and turned back to his work.

Professor Flitwick finished the register ("Esmeralda Zabini?") and closed the gigantic book with an echoing thud. By now, most of the class had finished writing; Albus was still on the third law of charming – _c) No charm should be used to endanger or restrict the safety of others. No charm should be used illegally, nor modified versions of a charm, especially in the company of others and/or in public gatherings were safety is of importance_. To be honest with himself, Albus found all this theory very tedious. He longed to take out his wand and actually _cast_ a spell, rather than study the knowledge behind it. This was where he and Rose differed; Albus preferred practical magic, whereas Rose enjoyed reading and learning about the spells rather than casting them.

The bell signalling the end of the lesson tolled – but the students remained seated, for they had a double Charms lesson with Flitwick before their break, after which they would have Defence Against the Dark Arts.

*

Their second Charms lesson passed quickly – more theory for them to write down, much to Albus' dislike, though Rose revelled in the new information they were given. Albus found himself taking out his wand and examining it every now and then, polishing the wood with his sleeve, admiring the smooth curve and steady grip. How he longed to get to use it! He wished he could cast a spell, any spell, as if that would confirm that he was a wizard through and through. Not being able to cast anything yet gave him a feeling of being incomplete, as though he wasn't truly a wizard if he couldn't cast any spells.

He and Rose had befriended Molly Finnigan, and now the three of them made their way to the Hogwarts library, as Rose wanted to have a look at the books there. It was typical of her; a whole castle to explore, and she headed straight for the library. Albus had wanted to go back to the Gryffindor Common Room, but, remembering that James would probably be there with his friends, decided against it seconds after. It wasn't that he didn't like his brother; just that he often enjoyed winding him up and teasing him.

They were just turning into the library corridor when a figure blocked their path.

"You're Albus Potter, aren't you?" the blond boy in front of him asked. Albus looked up – or rather, he looked _down_ – at the boy, who was a bit on the short side to be eleven years old. He recognized him as the boy who had glowered at him over the Slytherin table at the welcome feast the previous night. The serpent symbol of his house was emblazoned onto his robes.

"Yes, I am" Albus replied, trying to show a bit more confidence in his voice than he actually felt. He hadn't forgotten the chilling glare the boy had given him last night, and wasn't about to appear too friendly. Then, surprisingly, the boy smiled crookedly, showing two perfect rows of pearly white teeth.

"I'm Scorpius Malfoy" he said, shaking a stray strand of honey blond hair from his eyes. _Malfoy_ Albus thought. _I know where I've seen him before! At the station, he was with his dad. Uncle Ron told Rose to stay away from him._

He was close enough for Albus to notice, now, that his resemblance to his father was less pronounced than first appeared. His hair was shade or two darker; his eyes were blue, not grey like his father; and there was a light dusting of golden freckles across his nose. He was also short, shorter than Albus and Rose, but was taller than petite Molly.

"I thought your dad would have told you to stay away from us" Rose interjected, a hint of something Albus couldn't detect in her voice. Scorpius turned to her, focusing his eyes on her flaming red curls, her brown eyes, rosy cheeks – and Albus could tell he recognized her right away.

"Actually, he didn't" Scorpius replied. Rose's mouth gaped open.

"I thought your dad was pureblood through and through" she answered him.

"Nope. None of that blood purity stuff matters to him anymore, though my mum did say I wasn't allowed to talk to any of the Weasleys" he gave a small laugh.

Albus was confused. Why was Scorpius Malfoy, of all people, being nice to him, and Rose? It was odd, a Slytherin being friendly with a Gryffindor – three Gryffindors. His father had told him that the houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin had been fighting for centuries.

The bell for end of break rang, and Scorpius turned around.

"I'd like to stay and talk, but I have Transfiguration next, and apparently McGonagall doesn't like if you're late" he smiled again. "See you around, Rose – Albus" he nodded, and Albus involuntarily nodded back. Then he walked off, his bag swinging from his right shoulder. Rose breathed a sigh.

"Well, that was weird" she said. "I didn't know Scorpius Malfoy would be friendly. I guess my dad was wrong about him" she shrugged her small shoulders. "I'm still going to beat him in every test, though" she grinned mischeviously. "Come on, we'd better get to Defence Against the Dark Arts" she tugged on Albus' elbow, steering him backward. Albus followed, but on an autopilot; his mind was working, wondering why Scorpius Malfoy had chosen to speak to him, Albus Potter, son of his father's worst enemy. It was odd, as Rose had said; odd that Draco hadn't drilled it into his son that anyone who wasn't Pureblood was below those who were. But, if it was true – if the Malfoys really had given up their obsessions with blood purity – then maybe he could be friends with Scorpius Malfoy.


	4. Flying Lessons

_CHAPTER FOUR_

_Flying Lessons_

Albus' first week at Hogwarts was surprisingly uneventful, despite the stories James and his father had told him about the school. His lessons were all the same; each teacher would introduce him or herself, go to the blackboard, and tell them to copy down notes from it; then the register would be taken, and every time Albus' name was called, there was a carrying whisper amongst the students, which annoyed him and made him uncomfortable. His best lesson, however, had to be his Potions hour on Thursday Morning with the pot-bellied Horace Slughorn; the Potions professor had brought in three hue vats of steaming potion, and the students had to guess what each was. Rose, naturally, guessed two of the three, and it was Scorpius Malfoy (they also had Potions with the Slytherins, much to Molly's irritation) that correctly named the third potion, which happened to be Wolfsbane. This immediately made Albus think of Teddy, who was half werewolf and the only person in his family, apart from his father, he could really trust with his problems. The Metamorphmagus was an Auror-in-training, and often took Albus' side against James whenever he teased his younger brother.

So Albus was glad when, on Saturday morning, Victoire Weasley came gliding down the Gryffindor table to meet the first-years.

"Madame Hooch wants to see all first year Gryffindors in the grounds after breakfast" she announced. "You'll be pleased to know you'll be starting your flying lessons today" she looked particularly at Albus, who had been pestering his father for a broom since forever. She knew he wanted to learn how to fly – and smiled now as his face lit up with excitement.

"You'll need to make your way to the grounds as soon after first bell as you can. Madame Hooch will meet you there to take you down to the Quidditch Pitch" Another jolt of excitement hit him; Quidditch was another thing he was looking forward to. Beside him, he heard Rose gulp loudly. Flying was not her cup of tea, and Albus knew she was dreading getting on a broomstick as much he had been dreading the Sorting Ceremony.

Victoire glided off again, her silky blonde hair shimmering in the sunlight pouring through the enormous windows. Albus was ecstatic. He couldn't wait to get outside. He gulped down his breakfast quickly, then sat on edge as he waited for Rose and Molly to finish. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw James laughing with his friends a little way down the table, no doubt recalling their latest prank. Albus sighed. Suddenly, there was a loud screech overhead, and Albus spun round to see that the morning's Owl Post had arrived. Rose sat up quickly, craning her head for her owl, Hestia. Albus squinted through the flocks of tawny school owls to find his owl, Jemima. Soon, he found her; darker than the other owls, she swooped down onto the Gryffindor table and landed gracefully in front of him, a letter tied to her leg. Albus quickly untied the leather thong from around her leg and pulled the letter free.

"Thanks, Jemima" he said, stroking the soft feathers on the owl's head before she took off again. He opened the letter, and was greeted by his mother's handwriting;

_Dear Albus_, it read,

_Congratulations on making Gryffindor! We knew you'd be in that house, no matter what that fool of a brother of yours said. I do hope James is behaving, though – I don't want to have to come up to the school again to speak with Professor McGonagall like last time. How are you, sweetie? Are you settling in? Have you made any friends? How are your lessons so far?_

_Lily misses you at home; she keeps asking when you're going to write. I think she's worried you'll get caught in a suit of armour or something, bless her. _

_Please write as soon as you get this,_

_Lots of Love_

_Mum x_

_PS. Your dad sends his love and hopes that James isn't giving you a hard time. _

Albus had to laugh – hearing from his parents made him feel a lot better. He knew his sister would be missing him; Lily longed to go to Hogwarts too, and had been very upset when her brothers boarded the train on September 1st. He smiled to himself. He wasn't surprised that his mother had asked a lot of questions – she often worried about him and James, though his dad told her not to. He folded the letter and tucked it into the pocket of his robes along with the envelope it came in, for safekeeping.

The morning bell rang, signalling the end of breakfast; at once, students rose from their house tables and made their way out of the giant oak doors that lead into the Entrance Hall. Albus' pulse quickened. He couldn't wait to be outside on the pitch, broom in his hand, learning the fly...beside him, however, Rose had turned pale. He patted her shoulder.

"Madame Hooch will make sure you don't fall, you know" he reassured her. She smiled weakly in response. It was clear to anyone that she was very nervous about learning to fly.

As Victoire had told them, Madame Hooch – a woman with short, spiky hair and yellow catlike eyes – met them in front of the Entrance Doors with a smile, whistle already in her hand. The first year Gryffindors swarmed around her, joined close behind by the Ravenclaws, their expressions ranging from excited, like Albus, to nervous, like Rose. Molly remained impassive.

"Good morning, first years! Today will be your first flying lesson. I'm Madame Hooch, your teacher, and also Quidditch referee. Any questions? No? Okay, follow me!" she called, waving her hand forward. The students followed her in groups, chattering excitedly. Her long robes billowed along the grass as she marched. As they got closer, Albus could see the spectators stands' of the Quidditch pitch, along with the scoring hoops, rising into view ahead of them.

Before long, they reached the pitch; the stands rose tall on all sides, decked in house colours, and, lying in rows on the grass in front of them, were twenty or so broomsticks. Madame Hooch called them to the centre of the pitch.

"Now, I want everyone to step up to a broomstick" she called. Everyone did so, Albus taking position between Rose and Molly; on Rose's left was a dark-haired girl that Albus recognised as Florence Tabine, a girl whose father worked in the Auror Office at the Ministry of Magic. He had met her only once, a year or so previously, and found her to be very shy.

"Good, good. Next, I want you to extend your right arm over the broomstick, and, loudly and clearly, say 'Up!'" she instructed them. She watched the students attempted to summon their brooms; the Ravenclaws were doing rather well, whereas several Gryffindors was having trouble.

"Up!" Albus called to the broom lying next to him, arm extended. At once, the broom shot up from the ground into his outstretched hand, and he grasped the handle tightly so as not to drop it. He stared, surprised; he hadn't expected to do it first time. Beside him, Rose was finding it more difficult. Her broom didn't want to come up off the ground, and only jumped feebly whenever she called "Up!"

Madame Hooch blew her silver whistle, and the students silenced. Albus looked around to see who had managed to summon their brooms; almost all the Ravenclaws, Molly, himself and a handful of Gryffindors. Madame Hooch clicked her tongue in clear disappointment.

"Hmm, it seems we have some work to do" she mused. "Mr. Potter, would you come here please? Bring your broomstick" Albus' head snapped up. Go up in front of the whole class? What was she going to get him to do? Nervous for the first time since he set foot on the pitch, he walked over to where she was standing. She rested her yellow-eyed gaze on him when he reached her. No doubt she obviously recognised him; with his green eyes and jet-black hair, he looked almost exactly like his father, except Albus didn't need glasses.

"Now, please summon your broom, so I can show the rest of the class how it's done" she looked at him; she took in his expression. "No need to be nervous, now" she coaxed. "If you're anything like your father, you can do this. I was watching you before" she smiled. "Go on". Albus swallowed hard, and then placed his broom on the grass. Stepping up to it, he extended his right hand.

"Up!"

The effect was immediate. The broom shot up into his hand, causing his classmates to gasp in awe. He had to smile to himself. He grasped the broom handle tightly, and glanced sideways at Madame Hooch. She was also smiling.

"Well done, Mr. Potter. See, everyone? You need to be clear, precise – show the broom authority, _make_ it listen" she turned back to Albus. "You can join your classmates now" she patted him on the shoulder.

A chorus of whispered cheers followed him as he went to his place between Rose and Molly. All around, students were getting the hang of it; with every "Up!" a broom shot into the hand of its waiting owner. In five minutes, victorious grins were plastered onto the faces of all Albus' classmates.

"Well done, well done!" Madame Hooch called. "Now, next we will try hovering a few feet off the ground, to start with. First I want you mount your brooms, and hold on tightly. I don't want to take anyone to the hospital wing with broken bones after today's lesson. When you've mounted, balance, and then kick off the ground firmly. Once you're in the air, lean forward slightly, and then touch your foot to the ground. Are we clear? Then carry on"

This was the moment Albus had been waiting for. He longed to be up in the air again, even if it wasn't very high. Without hesitation, he mounted his broom, gripping the handle tightly. Then, as Madame Hooch said, he kicked up off the ground. Suddenly, he shot forward and upward, air rushing past his ears as he soared higher and higher. He couldn't hear Madame Hooch's protests from below, nor could he hear the shocked gasps of his classmates. He steered sharply right, flying low in the air; the feeling was exhilarating, the sun on his back and the wind in his hair, completely oblivious to his surprised, awed classmates beneath him. He soared right past the topmost branches of a nearby oak tree, zooming past with such speed that the leaves flickered in the sudden blast of air. He was soaring, flying...and it felt better than anything he had ever experienced, even on his own broom at home, which he used to fly around the garden, chasing the birds....

And then it was all over. With a sharp turn left, he took a hairpin dive almost expertly and zoomed towards the ground, slowing almost to a stop, and then his feet touched the ground in the same second, and he dismounted, dropping his broom to the side and breathing heavily.

"Wow!"

"That was amazing!"

"How did he learn to _do_ that?"

He walked over to where Rose and Molly were standing, gobsmacked, their brooms still in their outstretched hands, not even mounted yet; he grinned at them.

"Well done, Mr. Potter. Absolutely fantastic, especially for a first year! I've never seen anything like it since your father was a student here. You seem to have inherited his talent for flying" Madame Hooch came up behind him with a pleased smile on her face, yellow eyes alight was surprise at discovering a brand new talent. "You should come to Quidditch tryouts next Friday, five o'clock. With broom skill like that, you'd make a very good Seeker"

Albus all but burst with pride. Him? Seeker? Like his father? He had only been in the school a week!

"Come to the tryouts. We always need some new blood on the team".

"I think I will" he replied, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

*

Following his success in his flying lesson, Albus returned along with Rose to the Gryffindor Common Room, glad of some free time before afternoon lessons began. First years had Saturday mornings off, but resumed normal lessons in the afternoon. Rose used this free time to read the books they had been set for the year, along with a personal favourite of hers, _Hogwarts: A History_.

Albus, however, had taken out The Marauders' Map, and was now pouring over it at a small table in the corner, just watching the tiny dots move around the map, spotting teachers and students he knew; he spotted Professor Longbottom in the Greenhouses, and Professor Slughorn in the dungeons, no doubt preparing the Potions for his next class. He followed the little labelled dots with his wand, tracing the routes of his fellow students, curious to know where they were going. He spotted James' name hovering by a stretch of wall on the seventh floor. He knew this to be the location of the Room of Requirement, invisible to the naked eye, only appearing whenever a person really needed it. He hated to think what James and his friends were doing in the room; it probably involved products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and unsuspecting passers-by, or Mrs. Norris, the caretakers' cat that everyone hated.

He suddenly remembered his mother's letter, still in the pocket of his robes. He pulled it out now, and smoothed it out in front of him. He might as well write back while he had the time. Keeping the map in his bag ("Mischief managed!") he fished out a spare roll of parchment, quill and a bottle of ink, he read Ginny Potter's letter again, and wondered what to write. He thought about it; should he mention his meeting with Scorpius? His parents might not approve if they knew he was being friendly with him...but his father would definitely want to know how his flying lesson went, and his mother would want to know if he'd made friends yet....he thought about it some more, then wrote;

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I'm having a great time here – I and Rose stick together for all our classes, though I think it's a bit boring, we're only learning theory at the moment. I can't wait to start casting spells! Rose loves it, of course. She must have read _Hogwarts: A History_ three times already since we got here!_

_Everyone is really nice. I've made friends with Molly Finnigan, she's in Gryffindor too. We have all our classes together, though she doesn't the fact that so many of them are with the Slytherins. Actually, talking of Sytherins, I met Scorpius Malfoy the other day. He seems okay, though I know what you're thinking – but he was nice enough to me and Rose. Haven't had a Herbology class yet, so I haven't seen Neville, but I have his class after lunch so I'll see him then. I'll pass on your regards to him. _

_I had my first flying lesson this morning! It was amazing to be on the broom again...I loved it! It was great to fly again. Madame Hooch actually recommended I go in for Quidditch tryouts next week, and I think I will. It'll be great to be on the team, wouldn't it? _

_See you soon, _

_Lots of Love_

_Albus _

_PS. James is fine. At least, he hasn't been hassling me – yet. _

He put away his quill and ink bottle, re-reading the letter over again, satisfied that it would make his mum happy. He folded it up and placed it in an envelope, wrote _To Mum and Dad_ on the front, and then went to tap Rose on the shoulder.

"Rose, will you come with me to the Owlery? I need to post a letter" he asked, and his redheaded friend turned round.

"Sure" she replied, closing _Hogwarts: A History_ and putting it back in her bag. She stood up, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "Come on, I know where it is"

Once stepping through the portrait hole, they ascended a steep flight of stairs up to the next floor. Albus particularly didn't like the stairs; they moved when you least expected it, and you had to be careful of certain jinxes placed on specific steps, like the fake stair you had to remember to jump. He followed Rose up another flight of stairs, turned right past a large tapestry depicting a centaur with long, matted dark hair chasing a huge troll with a spear. Another tapestry showed a beautiful woman bathing in a fountain, a scaly serpent coiled around her feet.

The Owlery was just as it had always been; a circular room at the top of one of Hogwarts' many Towers, the floor covered in straw, feathers and owl droppings; on perches all around the walls, the school barn and tawny owls rested, ruffling their feathers or sleeping with their downy heads under their wings.

Albus spotted Jemima resting on a perch next to slightly smaller barn owl with dark brown spots and an orange beak. He made his way over to her, and coaxed her down onto his arm with a whistle. She perched, leg out, and he took out some string to tie the letter to her leg. Rose waited nearby, no doubt searching for Hestia.

"This is for mum and dad, okay?" he told her. He made sure the letter was tied tightly, and then patted Jemima on her head; she clicked her beak approvingly, and he walked her over to the window, where she balanced for a second before taking off into the blue sky, her talons squeezing his arm for a brief second before she flew away. He watched her go, following her shape further into the distance until she became no bigger than a spot on the horizon.

Footsteps sounded behind them; both he and Rose turned, and saw James coming up the stairs, pink in the face and slightly out of breath. He held a large, bulky package in his left hand, though he tried to hide it quickly under his robes when he spotted his brother. Albus narrowed his eyes at James suspiciously.

"It's nothing, just a package" he said coolly as he crossed to one of the perches and coaxed down an owl with dark feathers and a lighter coloured breast. It ruffled its feather majestically as it waited for James to tie the parcel to one scrawny leg.

"I didn't say it _was_ anything" Albus replied. James ignored him, or else wasn't listening.

"So how's Hogwarts treating you?" he grinned. This was odd. James wasn't usually this nice to him. The only exception was when he wanted something.

"It's okay" was his brother's only reply.

"Got into trouble yet?" James asked him.

"No. Why would you think that?" Albus said.

"Just asking. You are clumsy, after all" he mused, talking more to himself than to his brother. Rose stifled a giggle behind him.

"Well, I'm off" he patted the owl on the head, as Albus had done, and walked over to the window. With a squeeze of talons, the owl took off out into the blue morning sky. "Nice talking to you, Albus. Don't do anything stupid; leave that to me" with a grin and a mischevious glint in his brown eyes, he left the Owlery.

"He's up to something" Albus said when he was gone. "He isn't nice to me for no reason" he shook his head.

"Come on; let's get back to the Common Room. I want to finish chapter five of _Hogwarts: A History_ before the lunch bell goes"

Rose left the Owlery, Albus close behind her. He watched her head of flame-coloured curls bob up and down as she walked, bouncing on her shoulders. He would be able to spot Rose anywhere with that hair colour.

James was still on his mind, however; what on earth could he be planning? He tried to think what could be in his brother's parcel, and who he might have been sending it to. It couldn't be something innocent, this was James he was talking about. A mail order for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, perhaps. Or – he didn't want to think about it – a Hogwarts toilet seat or something of the sort, sent as a joke for their younger sister, who longed to attend Hogwarts like her brothers. Whatever it was, it couldn't be something which Hogwarts allowed. Most definitely not.


	5. The Venomous Tentacula

_CHAPTER FIVE_

_The Venomous Tentacula_

The wind was picking up in the grounds as Albus, Rose and Molly made their way down to the greenhouses for their Herbology class, not wanting to disappoint Neville – Professor Longbottom – by being late for their very first class. Despite not having seen the greenhouses properly yet, Albus had heard many stories about the weird and wonderful plants that Professor Sprout, a dumpy woman with greying curly hair and kind eyes who used to teach the subject, grew in there from his father. He had heard of an encounter with an unpleasant group of young Mandrakes, giant red flowers that looked like poppies but blew pepper in your face if you got too close, and the gnarled Bubotuber tree, disguised as an old tree stump but all too ready to whip out its branches at you if you crossed it. All in all, Albus was curious to see what would be shown to them for their first class.

They reached the greenhouses early, before anyone else; Professor Longbottom looked up when he heard them crossing the concrete path, and gave a beaming smile.

"Hi, Neville" Rose greeted him brightly as they reached him.

"Hi, Rose – oh, and Albus too. I thought I'd be taking your class" their professor wiped his compost-streaked hands on his robes, which were a faded brown; there was a faint scent of oak resin and dragon dung in the air around him.

"This is Molly" Albus pointed towards his dark-haired friend, who was busy admiring the ferny green growth spilling out of the cracks in the glass of the greenhouse.

"Hi, Professor" she smiled politely. "You know Albus and Rose, do you?" Professor Longbottom nodded.

"A friend of the family. I used to be at school here with Albus and Rose's parents" he smiled. The professor's face was just as round as it had always been, though more lined now; his brown hair was in disarray, and his cheeks were rosy from being out in the open air.

"Well, you might as well come in out of this wind. I wanted to show you something, anyway, before the others get here" he beckoned them to follow him, and so they did. Albus looked around; on all sides, tall leafy plants grew in abundance; several more spilled out of cracked terracotta pots around the door of the greenhouse, and as they passed the threshold a warm, musky, flowery scent filled the air. It was warmer inside the greenhouse itself; the perfume of a hundred different plants was inviting. Professor Longbottom bustled through a tangle of dark brown leaves and picked up a small, orange pot from one of the sills. In it was a sort of cactus, though its prickles were longer and thicker than a normal cactus; and on the end of each spike was a dark green bulb that looked liked the nozzle on his mother's vacuum cleaner. It was throbbing, slightly, too, as if panting or breathing heavily.

"This is a _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_" the professor announced proudly. "I had one of these when I was at school here, fifth year. My old Gran gave it to me. I was sorry when she died" he shook his head slowly, as if trying to shake away the memory. "They're rare, these. I had to pull quite a few strings to get this many of them" he pointed to the sill, where a handful more of the strange cactuses were growing; one was sprouting bright purple flowers, and another seemed to be oozing a dark goo from its spikes. Albus raised an eyebrow.

They could hear footsteps outside on the pathway; the other students were arriving in throngs, chatting loudly. Albus saw the blur of deep green against the black; so they were having Herbology with the Slytherins, too. Molly, who stood next to him, frowned.

"Come inside, come inside!" Professor Longbottom had crossed over to the open door, replacing the _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ back on its sill, and was now waving in the rest of the class with an eager, friendly smile.

The students spilled in, gazing in wonder at the bright, perfumed plants surrounding them. Albus spotted Scorpius Malfoy at the back of the throng, easily recognizable because of his ash blond hair and alabaster skin. He was walking with the tall black girl Albus had seen at the Sorting Ceremony, but he didn't seem to acknowledge her. She talked animatedly at his side, whilst he was more interested in his surroundings than what she had to say.

Albus and Rose quickly found a space at the end of one of the long benches places either side of a large metal table, on which were an assortment of objects; a dirt-smeared trowel, a handful of dried brown leaves that _seemed_ to be wriggling in the still heavy air, a tiny orange flower petal, and another of Professor Longbottom's _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ cactuses. This one had yellow spikes, and covered in pulsing warts in various shades of red.

Professor Longbottom cleared his throat. "Welcome to Herbology, everyone" he smiled. "This is greenhouse four, where you will be studying Herbology for the coming year. Oh, and I'm Professor Longbottom, by the way" he looked around at the twenty or so anxious faces whose eyes were one him. "Well we'd better get started, don't want to waste time. We have a lot to cover this year" he reached for a large, leather-bound book, and put it on the table with a dull thud. The binding was so worn at the edges; it slumped to the table dismally. "So we'd better crack on. Now, firstly, who can tell me anything that they might know about Herbology?" he looked around. Albus didn't have a clue. It seemed like not a lot of the others did either. He scanned the greenhouse quickly; only two hands were raised, and those were the hands of Rose, next to him (of course) and Scorpius Malfoy, across the table and two spaces to the left of where Albus was sitting. He caught Albus' eye, and gave a small smile.

"Interesting" the professor speculated. "Go ahead, Rose" he nodded to her, and she began to speak – as her mother did – as if she were reading from a textbook;

"Herbology is the study of plants and herbs, and their magical properties and uses" she paused to take a breath, "and is widely studied as a recreational subject, not necessarily to earn a qualification." Rose beamed at her own knowledge; Professor Longbottom mirrored her expression.

"Excellent, Rose – ten points to Gryffindor! Yes, Herbology is the study and examination of magical plants and herbs that posses certain useful properties. You may have already come across some examples in your Potions classes. I know that you will be using the essence of the hellbore plant in brewing a simple sleeping draft later this term" he clapped his hands together. "Who else wanted to say something?" he spotted Scorpius' raised hand at the back of class. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" he nodded. Scorpius lowered his hand.

"I know that my mother sometimes uses hellbore stalks and murtlap essence to heal the patients at St. Mungo's" he said. "Both those plants have very strong healing and soothing powers, that's why they're used to treat cuts and grazes by healers" his voice was clear, carrying through the greenhouse like flies in the air – the whole class was listening.

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy. Well done. Ten points for Slytherin also" Professor Longbottom praised. Scorpius beamed; the black girl beside him frowned, a look of displeasing on her otherwise striking face.

"Now, to today's lesson. See over there, at the end of the table, next to Miss Weasley? Those brown things, over there? Those are the dried leaves of the Venomous Tentacula" he announced. "Very, very useful, those leaves are; the sap from these leaves is used in the brewing of Amortentia, a love potion so powerful that even in small doses can create such an infatuation that the drink becomes obsessed. They are a very versatile plant extract, with many other uses besides Potion-making. It can be used to treat infections of the chest, ear and throat; and is also used in medicine as a form of pain relief during childbirth. So, what are we going to use them for? Well, across the next few lessons we will be extracting the sap from these leaves, and storing it. We are then going to look at the leaves more closely, and the plant it came from, though we must be careful as the Venomous Tentacula is just that – venomous. To begin, we are just going to discuss what we see here, and take some notes before the deeper study of the plant. Any questions?" he searched the class; no one had raised their hand.

The professor weaved his way through the students, carrying a volume titled _Herbology; A Guide For Teachers and Herbologists_. As he passed Rose and Albus to get to the end of the table, he whispered, "_Am I doing alright for your first lesson? I haven't taught first-year Herbology before"_. Rose and Albus assured him that he was doing fine, and he smiled at them fondly. Out of the corner of his eye, Albus saw a large, ominous red plant hulking in the corner. The huge, crimson flower was open, revealing a cluster of black seeds in the middle, like a poppy; around it curled several tens of long, whippy green vines, covered in tiny darker green leaves. It hissed softly, and its petals wavered, as if the plant itself was disgruntled.

The class set to work; Albus and Rose took turns to write their notes, though Albus would have preferred it if Rose had written them – he thought his large, rounded script looked childish beside Rose's flowing hand, but no matter; she didn't mind him taking notes, but whispered extra information in his ear almost constantly, her breath tickling his skin. She often corrected him, too, once or twice grabbing the quill from him to cross out a word or phrase that was apparently wrong. He was used to this. Rose liked getting everything, every fact or figure or statement, absolutely correct. It was just something she did.

After about five minutes, Albus leaned over to ask Professor Longbottom a question. Because of the dense groups of students clustered around the long table, he had to lean around behind them and by doing so his left arm brushed past the crimson—flowered plant he had seen earlier. No sooner had his sleeve brushed the long, green vines that a horrible squeezing sensation shot up his arm; it felt as though his forearm was in a vice grip. He tried to pull free; and by doing this, he had unknowingly antagonised the plant. The Venomous Tentacula retaliated, and with a metallic ripping sound, a pair of razor-sharp thorns sprung from the vine and bit into Albus' left arm.

He yelled in pain; the Tentacula's bite was vicious, burning his skin. It was also venomous, hence its name. Professor Longbottom spun round, and saw what happened. He lunged for the nearby windowsill and plucked a small blue bottle with a yellow nozzle from it; ripping the cap off, he aimed it at the tentacula and sprayed. By now, the plants venom was stinging fiercely; Albus' eyes were watering from the pain of it. As soon as the solution in the bottle had been sprayed, the vine immediately unwrapped itself from Albus' arm; he looked, and saw that the thorns of the plant had burnt two identical holes in his sleeve. The edges of the tears were dark with the blood that welled from two puncture holes, side by side. Professor Longbottom hurried over to him, taking him by his right elbow. His arm was numb; the effect of the Tentacula's venom. Rose, pale-faced, appeared at the professor's side.

"You'll have to go to the hospital wing straight away, Albus. Take Rose with you. Tentacula venom isn't kind to the body – your arm is already going numb" he told him, and Rose grabbed his right sleeve. "Quickly, you two – the venom isn't pleasant to deal with". Rose held on tighter, and steered Albus through the throng. When they got out into the fresh air of the grounds, Albus' head whirled. He held onto Rose with good arm, trying to steady himself. The venom was spreading; he could feel the numbness, the stinging, higher up his forearm now, close to the crease in his elbow.

They reached the infirmary in a matter of minutes. Albus was lightheaded; he could barely stumble through the doors of the hospital. Rose, steering him towards an empty bed, explained to the matron what had happened, though Albus couldn't distinguish the words she was saying. He felt himself being pushed onto the soft down of the bed, and then having to fight back a wave of unpleasant nausea as his numb arm was lifted and stripped of his sleeve; something cold was placed against the wound and he felt something sharp pierce his skin. He vaguely saw a blur of shining metal; a needle. Albus winced. He hated needles. He had all but wanted to run right out of the room when he had needed his annual flu jab last winter. He saw a flash of red leaning over him; Rose. His head was swimming, and he couldn't feel his left arm at all. It was like it wasn't even there.

And then his eyelids drooped, and his head rolled against the plump white pillows. Everything went black.

*

When he woke again, pale afternoon light was coming in through the window above his bead. His eyes snapped open; his arm felt heavy, and his head thumped. He looked down, and saw that his arm was bandaged. He tried to wiggle his fingers, but the movement tired him. It must have been at least four o'clock, maybe later than that. He wasn't sure. He had been out for a long time, though. Whatever the matron had given him to counteract the venom in his bloodstream but have been a sedative. He was tired; he rubbed his eyes with his good hand, and attempted to prop himself up on his pillows.

The infirmary was just as it had always been; a long, rectangular room, lined on either side with ten single beds, all dressed in white sheets and blankets. A curtain rail ran between them, supporting pale green hangings, drawn for patients' privacy. The light came from several oil lamps placed at intervals on small tables along each wall.

The matron came bustling over to Albus' bed, a bottle in her hand. He didn't really want to take anything else, especially if it involved needles of some sort. But the matron didn't seem to have an injection with her. Good, Albus thought.

"Ah, you're awake. I was wondering when you would rouse from your sleep" she smiled. Her pale blue eyes were caring; her skin was olive-toned and smooth. She had dark hair pulled into a bun at the base of her neck, and her lips were full and pink. She bent over him to inspect his arm, prodding it with her fingers.

"Can you feel anything?" she asked him as she prodded his bandaged arm. Her fingers hurt a little; his skin must still be sore around the wound.

"Yes" he replied, wincing. The matron smiled.

"That's good. Nasty, tentaculas are. Good of your friend to bring you when she did" she told him. "Not the nicest of magical fungi, Venomous Tentacula" she shook her head, and reached for the bottle she had placed in her apron. She uncorked it, and then set it on the sideboard.

"I'm going to unwrap the bandages so I can put some healing ointment on the puncture wound. It'll heal over faster that way" she explained, her long fingers deftly working the white wrapping on his left arm. The exposed skin was white as chalk, almost powdery-looking, as if it had been out of the light for some time. The two small puncture holes the tentacula had made, however, were crimson, the skin around them pink and tender; still healing. The matron took the bottle from the sideboard and placed the neck against Albus' arm. With a small movement, she tipped some of the liquid inside onto the wound. Albus winced; it stung, though not as fiercely as the tentacula venom. The ointment was a yellowish colour, bright against the paler skin of Albus' arm. It didn't have any particular scent, but it was faintly musky.

The matron corked the bottle and wiped away the excess from around the wound; she then reached for her wand from her apron pocket and waved it, and the bandages re-wound themselves around his arm, slightly tighter than before. She turned to him.

"You're free to go now, if you want. I'll pass a message along to your teachers explaining why you were out of class. Remember tom keep that arm in the bandages" she gestured toward his injury "and try not to knock it or bang it, as that might cause an unpleasant reaction" she smiled kindly. "Alright?"

"Thanks" Albus told her. He made to sit up, and his head cleared once he was elevated; it felt good to be standing on two feet again. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, holding his bandaged arm away from damage. With another thankyou to the matron, he left the infirmary, heading back to the Gryffindor Common Room, where Rose would surely be waiting for him.


	6. James Potter and the Suit of Armour

_CHAPTER SIX_

_James Potter and the Suit of Armour_

All in all, Albus and Rose's first week at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been surprisingly eventful. Albus had started a number of different subjects, his best lesson so far being Potions with the pot-bellied Slughorn; he had, to his amazement, become friendly with Scorpius Malfoy and made a new friend in the form of Irish Molly Finnigan, had been told that he should try out for his house Quidditch team and been bitten by a Venomous Tentacula plant during Herbology, the latter Rose was still fussing over several days later.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Maybe you should get it checked again at the infirmary"

"Are you _sure_ everything's fine, Albus?"

To be honest, Rose's overreaction to his injury was beginning to get on his nerves. There was no need for her to be so flapping about it, though he could predict the same reaction from his mother when she found out her son had been bitten by a venomous plant. No doubt Neville would have written to her about it; she would want to know. But Rose was making a mountain out of a molehill. Despite being sore and the skin still tender, and the occasional headache caused by the medicine he had been given for the bite, Albus was perfectly fine. There was no need to worry.

On Wednesday morning, three days after his run-in with the tentacula, he received a letter from his parents, though his father had written it this time and not his mother. Jemima had delivered it, along with the other post owls, at breakfast; she nearly crashed into a goblet when she landed in front of him at the Gryffindor table. He quickly untied the letter from her leg, stroked her feathery head, and allowed her to nip his fingers affectionately before flying off to the Owlery. Albus quickly tore open the letter with a buttery knife, and folded it out onto the table. His father's messy scrawl greeted him.

_Dear Albus,_

_I don't know what you're mother has been flapping about, but next time you write make sure you tell her to stop going on about how she's afraid you'll get locked in the broom closet or get poisoned in Potions or impaled by your own broomstick. She's doing my head in. Don't tell her I said that. _

_First of all, I want to say congratulations on making Gryffindor. I told you not to listen to James, didn't I? He's wrong, as usual. I knew you wouldn't be in Slytherin, and so did your mother. It's just James trying to get you paranoid. As for the Quidditch tryouts, I'd say go for it! You'd be brilliant, if Madam Hooch is anything to go on. I can't believe she's still teaching there. She was my flying teacher when I was your age. She must be quite old now, at least? Don't get on the wrong side of her though. She has a hawk eye for Quidditch fouls. _

_I was a bit worried when you said you ran into Scorpius Malfoy, though. Are you sure he didn't give you any trouble? It doesn't seem like any spawn of Malfoy's would be nice to a Potter – or anyone who wasn't in Slytherin, for that matter. I heard Esmeralda Zabini was going to Hogwarts too. Have you had any trouble from her? Your mother met her once, when she was brought into St. Mungo's for some kind of broomstick-related injury (apparently she had flown too close to a tree and crashed into it) and said that she was the most spoilt girl she'd ever met. If she gives you any grief, make sure you tell us about it. I could easily atone for that by sacking on or both her parents on 'medical grounds' like I did for Penelope Rushmore a few months back. I'd...er, appreciate it if you didn't tell your mother about that. I wasn't exactly truthful about it. You know how she gets sometimes. _

_I have to leave for the night shift at the Ministry in ten minutes, so I'll have to go. Kingsley needs covering on a epidemic of out of control candles in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office – don't ask. _

_Don't get into any trouble. _

_Dad x_

He smiled. His father was a much more satisfactory correspondent from home that his mother. His joking stories and questions in his letters often made Albus laugh. What's more, he never worried too much. His mother would flap about the littlest things, whereas his father would take it on the chin and laugh about it later. It was one of the reasons why he got on better with his father than his mother. Ginny Weasley often pointed out that her husband's genes had been split two ways; James had received the 'talent for trouble' streak – which rather spoke for itself – whilst Albus had inherited the 'danger magnet' gene, hence his run in with the tentacula just a few days ago.

He quickly scanned the letter again, and mock-glowered at Rose when he realised she was reading his letter over his shoulder. He shooed her away with a wave of his hand; she hunched back over her copy of _Hogwarts: A History – Revised Edition_ (Rose had complained that the original version was too vague and so Mrs. Weasley had bought her daughter the more accurate version to the pursue once she had read the original) and continued to spoon cereal into her mouth. Albus himself grabbed a couple of sliced of toast, spread them with jam and butter, and jammed them hungrily into his mouth. He hadn't realised how hungry he was until the smell of food on the table reached his nostrils. Out of habit, he pulled out his timetable, as he did every breakfast time. He had Transfiguration first lesson, followed by History of Magic – according to Mr. Weasley, the most boring subject ever taught. He hoped he was wrong. He wanted to learn – after all, that's why he came to Hogwarts in the first place, wasn't it? To learn about the world his parents' belonged to. About the world _he_ now belonged to. History of Magic should be interesting. At least, that's what he hoped.

*

Transfiguration went well, for the most part.

He had managed to arrive ten minutes late for the lesson, due to the fact that Rose had wanted to return an overdue book to the library and had to wait – stringing Albus along with her – for the full ten minutes for the librarian to arrive. After receiving an earful from the aged Professor McGonagall, they were forced to take the only seats left at the back of classroom. Scorpius had been right when he had said that McGonagall hated it when you were late for you lesson.

If that weren't a bad enough start to the day, Albus realised he'd forgotten his copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. Rose refused to let him share her copy of the volume, mumbling something about "irresponsibility and disorganisation", and so he'd turned to Molly – who grudgingly agreed to share hers. Apparently, sitting behind Scorpius Malfoy was the worst thing ever happened to a first year student.

Professor McGonagall began the lesson bitterly, ordering them to turn to their books and read chapter one – _An Introduction to Transfiguration and It's Purposes_. Albus all but rolled his eyes with irritation and predictability when Rose's hand shot up next to him, nearly impaling two of her fingers up his nostrils in her haste.

"Professor!" she called out. "Professor, I've already read chapter one" Rose said, tossing her curls back over her shoulders. Albus tried not to laugh at Professor McGonagall's clearly displeased expression.

"Well then, Miss Weasley, proceed to chapter two" was her only reply, and that in a clipped tone, looking at Rose from over the rims of her square green spectacles, which had previously been scanning fifth year OWL papers.

"But Professor, I've read chapter two as well. I've read the whole book" Rose answered. The aged Professor raised a thin eyebrow.

"Well, if that's so, Miss Weasley, then you can tell me – in fact, the entire class – what the author of the volume says about transfiguration as a whole at the end of work?" she sat up a little straighter in the large, throne-like chair behind the oak desk at the front of the classroom.

Albus was only half-listening to their discussion; he was busy scanning the walls around the room, staring at the several tapestries depicting different types of Transfiguration; animal transfiguration, human transfiguration (which showed a rather nasty image of a human with a shark's head), nature transfiguration – used for concealment – and object transfiguration, which depicted a whistle being turned into a shining silver needle. He was only broken from his reverie when he realised that Rose was speaking, and that all eyes in the classroom were on them.

"...that Transfiguration is very much an art that is often perceived as being out-dated and old-fashioned; more and more advanced concealment and secrecy charms are being developed every day by the wizarding world's most gifted magical researchers, and there is no longer any need for old-fashioned Transfiguration for means of security and safety of wizards. But, he also says that this shouldn't discourage young wizards from learning the very same principles that these new developments are made upon" Rose stopped, beaming. Her blue eyes were alight with pleasure at knowing this piece of information. Albus was all too familiar with his friend's expression. Professor McGonagall seemed impressed, too.

"Very well remembered, Miss Weasley! Five points to Gryffindor!" the Professor praised, smiling crookedly under her square spectacles. She looked to the rest of the class. "I expect the same amount of effort from all of you as Miss Weasley here" she instructed them, her tone severe now. They watched, and Albus nodded in synchronization with the rest of the students seated around him. Then Professor McGonagall turned to Rose again.

"Your mother would be proud of you"

Rose's face split in half with a triumphant smile. Out of the corner of his eye, Albus saw something he wouldn't have suspected. In the row in front of him, two seats down, he watched as Scorpius Malfoy turned in his seat to stare at Rose. Yes, _stare_. Albus was shocked, and for a moment, froze. The look in his blue eyes was unmistakable.

It was pure, mesmerized admiration.

*

Walking out of Transfiguration and on their way to History of Magic, Rose was full of pride.

"I didn't expect to get any points just because I actually did some work" she said innocently, though Albus knew exactly what she was getting at. Molly walked next to her, a grimace plastered on her face.

"I wish I was as clever as you" Molly sighed sadly. Albus turned to her. As clever as Rose? He didn't think anyone their age could be smarter than Rose Weasley, not that he had met that many of his fellow students outside of Gryffindor house.

History of Magic was - as Mr. Weasley had told him - very, very boring. The teacher, Professor Binns, merely floated a few inches above his laden desk and wheezed and droned on about the importance of the subject in the understanding of the future of magic. It was a complete disappointment to keen Albus – he had hoped that the rumours about this subject weren't true. Instead of listening properly, he simply gazed around the tiny History of Magic room. It wasn't as lavishly decorated neither as the Transfiguration classroom, nor as wildly exotic as the Herbology greenhouses, but stuffed with books and papers and several animal skeletons, collected by Professor Binns himself (Albus assumed). It was stuffy; many students had unbuttoned their robes, fanning themselves with their textbooks whilst trying to digest the wheezing drone of their ancient Professor. So far, this had been the least exciting thing that had happened since Albus had started here. If this was how Professor Binns intended to go on, he could see himself now not getting very far in History of Magic.

The calamity came just after their last lesson – Potions, in which Professor Slughorn succeeded in setting his own sleeve on fire with his cauldron – when Albus, Rose and Molly were making their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room for an early night, due to a Transfiguration homework (practising transfiguring a wooden toothpick into a hairpin) and some 'light reading' in Rose's case. Apparently, a thousand-page book on the history of Charms was 'light'.

The stairs were moving again, swinging this way and that _just_ when you had got your head around where you wanted to go, so it took longer than usual for them to reach the Common Room. They jumped a flight of stairs as quickly as they could before it moved, and then tried to dodge another flight which had discreetly shifted slightly to the right, so it's destination became a plain, locked door instead of the way up to the Prefect's quarters (Victoire had shown them these when they had first arrived; her own living quarters, higher up, were near the Astronomy Tower). The stairs didn't seem to want to cooperate, and it was only after Albus forgot about the trick step halfway up a short staircase and got his foot stuck for a full five minutes that they'd had enough, and settled for leaping the steps two at a time. They finally reached the portrait which lead into the Common Room, red-faced and panting, when a shrill, angry shriek came up from somewhere below them, but not before an almighty crash.

"JAMES POTTER! WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?" came the livid voice of Professor McGonagall from below. Albus cringed and flushed considerably. What had James done now? Molly and Rose turned to stare at him, eyes wide. He expected this, yet it wasn't pleasant. Being associated with a troublemaker wasn't really going to get him any favours with his teachers, especially if the troublemaker was his own brother. There was a silence, with no answer from James himself – or none that they could here from where they were. There was a frantic mewling, though, and Professor McGonagall's shocked cry reached their ears again.

"YOU LOCKED MR. FILCH'S CAT IN A SUIT OF ARMOUR?" she bellowed. Again, Albus cringed, and colour rushed into his face. This was just the kind of thing his parent's had _not_ wanted to happen this year. He could imagine James' expression now; sheepish, trying to act innocent, when the evidence was right under his nose for everyone to see.

"YOU STUPID BOY! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HER! THIS IS _INEXCUSABLE_! DETENTION FOR A MONTH, AND FIFTY POINTS TAKEN FROM GRYFFINDOR, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Albus gasped this time. _Fifty points?!_ It was absurd! _Fifty_?

"No!" Rose moaned. Her hard-earned points were clearly on her conscience – she didn't want to see them taken away. She glared at Albus. Molly was equally shocked.

"GO TO MY OFFICE AND WAIT FOR ME THERE, THIS INSTANT!" she screeched, and then added. "_and don't touch anything while you're there!"_

Albus sighed. James had only been back in school for just over a week, and already he was causing trouble. Locking the grisly caretaker's cat in a suit of armour wasn't exactly the best thought-out prank he'd ever put into practice. Especially if that said suit of armour had weak hinges and collapsed to the ground, exposing the shocked tabby cat at his feet. James' footsteps were heard fading out along the corridor beneath them, followed by Professor McGonagall's livid muttering; clear even to them two floors up. Albus doubted that anyone hadn't heard her angry screeching. For the third time, Albus cringed again. It was at times like these that Albus wished he wasn't related to James Potter – and he knew Rose was thinking the same thing, as a disapproving scowl had appeared on her freckled face. She turned on her heel, spat "_Courage_" at the fat lady – half asleep – in the portrait, and stamped into the Gryffindor Common Room in a huff. Albus and Molly reluctantly followed.

The fire had already been lit in the wide marble fireplace; it cast welcoming flames of shadow across the crimson walls, warming the air in the large room. It was almost empty; only a couple of fifth-years were sitting at the round table in the corner, playing wizard's chess. Rose had gone up to the girl's dormitories without Molly; they heard the door clap shut behind her as she swung into the room angrily. Albus looked to Molly for some kind of explanation.

"James is her cousin, too. She's probably just embarrassed" Molly told him. Albus tried to give a smile, and then settled himself down on one end of the large crimson velvet sofa in the centre of the room, in front of the fireplace. The warmth it gave out was comforting, now that is was winter. It was getting dark outside the lattice window; a few of the early evening stars peppered the sky, though grey clouds were rolling in from the west. Albus hoped it wouldn't rain tonight, or the next night, or the next – particularly not Friday. He had decided to go for the Quidditch tryouts after all, just to give it a go. He probably wasn't good enough for the official house team, but he might as well at least try. What was the worst that could happen?

_Well, _a voice inside his brain told him _you could shut the Snitch inside a suit of armour_. Albus laughed aloud.


	7. Quidditch Tryouts

_CHAPTER SEVEN_

_Quidditch Tryouts_

Friday came all too quickly, and Albus was jittery with nerves for the entire day, oblivious to Rose and Molly's words of encouragement.

"You'll be brilliant, Albus" Rose told him. "You were great in the flying lesson" She seemed to have recovered from her anger at James' troublemaking the few days previously; at least, she wasn't as hostile. But she still couldn't look Albus directly in the eye when she spoke to him. Molly was different.

"Just think of it as just you and no one else there" was her advice. "Don't think about whoever else is standing on that pitch. Ignore them. You'll do fine" she smiled at him from over the rim of her goblet at lunch. Albus was fidgeting; he couldn't sit still for more than a few seconds at a time, and his gaze kept darting around the enormous Great Hall, the sky above them grey and bleak. The bad weather had dampened the mood around Hogwarts. The students were less chatty, less excited about everything. Only a handful of first years still remained optimistic about it.

"You have to eat something, Albus, or you'll faint when you're up in the air" Rose suddenly coaxed him, bringing him out of his train of thought.

"I'm not really hungry" he replied. In truth, he wasn't hungry at all; the nerves of the impending Quidditch trials were eating him inside out. He was worried that he would do something wrong – fall off his broom and have everyone laugh at him; fall off his broom and have Madame Hooch laugh at him; be blown off course and crash into a tree, most likely the Whomping Willow; or, the worst, not being able to get his broom up in the air at all, and look like an idiot in front of the older, more experienced flyers which would no doubt be wanting to try out for the team.

"Stop _worrying_, Albus" Molly said kindly. His nerves must have been clear on his face, then. Molly's friendly eyes rested on him, a dark, sage green, different from his own. Albus had to smile back at her, wider this time.

"Molly's right, Albus. The more you think about it, the worse it's actually going to be" Rose chipped in, sensible as always. A theory for everything, always practical. Insanely clever, of course. No one was cleverer than Rose Weasley. Except, perhaps, Scorpius Malfoy. He often answered questions correctly in class; was able to quote long passages from textbooks from memory alone; and, from what Albus could gather, seemed to admire Rose especially for her aptitude for learning. Albus was embarrassed at this. He remembered the way Scorpius had stared at her in Transfiguration – the look of mesmerisation in his eyes. Was Rose really that...stunningly clever? He'd never really thought about it. But from Scorpius Malfoy's perspective...

Maybe she was, to someone who didn't know her very well, someone who hadn't spent much or any time with her. For Albus, her intelligence and keenness was routine; he expected it, at home and at school. She had begun reading the _Daily Prophet_ every day when she was four years old, reading thick volumes meant for fifth or sixth year magic students at the age of seven. By the time she was ready for Hogwarts, she was already cleverer than half the people Albus knew who were their age. The Muggle primary school which Rose and Albus went to before attending Hogwarts was startled by her brilliance. He had become used to constant praising of her achievements; winning all sorts of prizes and awards at school, and outside of school; being popular amongst the other children in their class for being so brilliant at everything, and so _easily_ too. If Albus tried to cram that much information into his head, he was sure his brain would explode.

He spent the last couple of hours until the tryouts in a slight panicked daze; he was unable to concentrate on his lessons properly, not really listening to his teachers' lectures, not seeing clearly the writing on the page in his textbooks. His mind was on the Quidditch trials, and whether or not he would do well. It seemed to only go two ways; either he did brilliantly and got on the team, or did stupidly awfully and was asked to leave the pitch and not come back. He cringed at the latter. How humiliating it would be, to do so badly when Madame Hooch had praised him so extravagantly in his flying lesson the previous week. It wasn't until the bell rang at the end of his last lesson, and there was only an hour to go, that the worry really started to set in.

He was panicking. Thinking of every possibility, everything that could go wrong, going wrong once he got on his broomstick. He knew he shouldn't be thinking of these things; Rose had told him, the more you think about something going wrong, the higher the possibility that it actually _will_ go wrong. He tried to use this theory to stop himself from thinking too much about the bad things. He focused instead on positive outcomes of tonight; flying brilliantly; getting onto the team; his parent's pride when he wrote to them to tell them his good news; the admiration he would get from his fellow students, not only from the first year, but higher years too; he saw himself holding the Quidditch cup at the end of the year, grinning broadly and blissfully happy. It took the edge off the worry he was feeling. It made him more positive he was going to do well, rather than being negative and thinking that he wouldn't do very well at all. It helped.

So, when the ornate clock above the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room said ten to five, he made for the portrait hole with a new confidence.

"Good luck!" Rose called after him as he stepped through the portrait hole, looking up from a thick book in her lap.

"Break a leg" Molly smiled.

"Thanks" Albus told his two friends; then disappeared down three flights of stairs, out into the Entrance Hall, and cut across the grounds half-running and half-walking, eager to get to the pitch, to fetch a broomstick – he would have to use one of the school ones for now, as his own broom was at home (first years weren't allowed to bring their own brooms to school) – and get up in the air as soon as possible. As he reached the grounds, the silver sliver of the moon could be seen in the darkening sky.

Madame Hooch was waiting for him, several groups of students standing around her, just outside the great Entrance Doors that lead out onto the grounds. She smiled when he caught up with her.

"Albus, you made it! Good, good" she turned her yellow, hawk-like gaze to the other students around her; they stared quite incredulously at the first-year newcomer now standing a little way in front of them, not really believing that he was there to try out for the team. Most of the students there were male, and looked at least fifth year, perhaps sixth; there was one boy, tall and lean with dark hair, that Albus recognized as being a seventh year who had once been the object of Victoire's affection. He had often seen him around Shell Cottage when he visited every summer – now, of course, Teddy had made himself a somewhat permanent home there. Not that Victoire, Bill or Fleur complained – though the French Mrs. Weasley was often startled by Teddy's ever changing hair colour. For now, it was honey blonde; by next month, Albus was sure, it could be anything from shocking purple to a sombre, inky black.

The older students diverted their gaze from Albus back to Madame Hooch, whom Albus now noticed had a tiny silver whistle hanging around her neck.

"Right, we'd better get down to the pitch before evening draws in; be careful of the grass, it may be slippery from the last few day's rain we've had. Follow me!" she waved them across the dewy, damp grass, and the eager party followed. The ground squelched unpromisingly under Albus' feet. He hoped he wouldn't skid across the pitch trying to kick start his broomstick. Knowing him, he would crash into one of the stands and break one or more bones. Flying he could do as second nature; landing gracefully and with dignity was often a completely different story.

The stands of the pitch rose in immense size over them when they finally reached the playing ground; eight enormous pillars, lined with seats and topped with flags that bore each of the four house emblems, two for each house - Slytherin's serpent, silver on green; Hufflepuff's badger, blue on yellow; Ravenclaw's namesake, a raven, bronze on blue; and lastly, the lion of Godric Gryffindor, gold on scarlet, flapping in the slight winter breeze. As he watched the scarlet ripple against the sky of the evening, it gave him a new confidence. He _could_ do this. He _was_ a brilliant flyer. He _did_ have plenty of talent.

Then Madame Hooch called to them. It was to be the Chaser's first, then the Beaters, then the Keepers, and last but not least, the Seekers. Well, at least Albus had the chance to watch the others first. He had never practiced with a proper Snitch before though, only with bewitched golf balls. He hoped it would be enough. But golf balls weren't as fast as the Snitch, or as small. He would improvise if he had to.

"Right, Chasers, I want each of you to fly around the pitch once, and then you will each be passed the Quaffle by myself. You must catch it consecutively six times. Everyone understand?" Madame Hooch declared from the head of the party. There was serious nodding from the group standing near a stand decorated in Ravenclaw house colours, which must have been the Gryffindor hopefuls wanting to be Chasers on the team. There was one girl amongst them; slight, with deep red hair cropped to the nape of her neck, Albus recognized her face too – her name was Amanda Braithwaite, a Muggle-born witch whose parents owned a dressmaking shop in the part of London where Albus lived. He had the passed the shop many times, but had never gone it. It looked the sort of place only rich people bought their clothes.

The hopeful Chasers took their positions. Albus watched each of them carefully as they mounted their brooms, each pair of eyes narrowed in concentration as they focused. Suddenly, they took off – there were six of them in total, five boys and Amanda, the only girl – and they were soaring around the pitch, faster than Albus had seen anyone fly before; was he that fast when he flew? The wind rustled their hair, their clothes; it was hard to keep track of how fast they were going. Red-headed Amanda was at the front of the party. She flew the fastest, her body pressed against her broom. They were good. They were very good. Madame Hooch blew on her whistle, and the six returned to the damp ground within seconds of each other, though none of them dismounted their brooms. It was time for the catching test. One by one, they were called up into the air by Madame Hooch, who threw the Quaffle to each of them six times. Each of them had to pass it back to her quickly and accurately before each of the six times, too, for an added bonus. A short, thickset boy with pale eyes and light hair went first. He caught five of the six, just missing the last shot by his fingertips; he seemed heartbroken, and dismounted his broom sulkily even though Madame Hooch said he did brilliantly.

"Yeah, right" he mumbled gruffly as he leant his broom up against the stadium wall. Albus' heart rate increased. He was one closer to his turn. Next to fly was Amanda. She caught and returned each of the six shots perfectly, and with such quick reflexes that Albus had trouble following the Quaffle as it flew through the air. As she dismounted, Amanda was confident; there was a distinct swagger in her walk as she went back towards the group near Madame Hooch.

The third flyer wasn't as quick with his reflexes; he missed two of the three, and didn't seem too pleased about his failure. Albus saw Madame Hooch give him a sympathetic look. Somehow, he didn't think he would be given a place on the team. The next three were really the same; mediocre reflexes, fairly good catch, yet all of them caught all six shots with ease. Albus wondered how Madame Hooch would decide between them. Then the Chasers were over, and it was time for the Beaters. One group of players down, two to go until the Seekers. The six who had tried out left the pitch; in their place, stepped four boys, each similar in height, though their appearance differed immensely. One of them was the dark haired boy Albus had recognized before, one was honey blond, another had pale brown hair, and the last boy had auburn hair, similar to Rose's curls but with darker tones. The silver moonlight, clearer now in the darker blue sky, glinted off their brooms and their hair as one by one they took position, bat in hand, and Madame Hooch released the deadly black Bludgers.

They zoomed almost elegantly after the ploughing balls, bats swinging in their hands. Albus watched as one by one, they each _thwacked_ a Bludger with all their might, and sent it speeding down the pitch in a completely opposite direction. The air behind the black balls whistled as they zoomed off course. The honey blond boy swung round and aimed another _thwack_ at a nearby Bludger – it swung right in a circle, before flying off in the direction of the fifteen-foot high goalposts at the left end of the pitch. With a clang, it collided with the post and crashed to the floor, whatever enchantment was on it broken. The blond boy grinned in triumph. Madame Hooch blew her whistle, and the Beaters were done. It was time for the Keepers. Albus' heart started thumping madly. In a few minutes, it would be his turn. His palms became clammy as the two hopeful Keepers mounted their brooms. The first was a redhead, short and stocky; the other was taller, leaner, with messy dark hair obscuring most of his face. Albus wondered if he would be able to see the Quaffle at all through all that hair.

The redheaded boy managed to defend the hoops for four out of five shots; the darker boy saved all five. Once again, Madame Hooch blew her whistle sharply and the Keepers were dismissed. Albus' heart was suddenly in his mouth. He felt very nervous; but he knew he had to do well. He swallowed hard, and turned to Madame Hooch. She nodded, and gave him a reassuring smile.

There was only one other candidate for Seeker; Albus hadn't spotted him before. He rose slowly out of the throng of tested hopefuls, all still clutching their brooms tightly as if afraid to let them go. He was enormous, at least twice Albus' height, and nearly three times as wide, too. He looked like a huge, heavy ape. Albus' eyes widened at the sight of his opponent. As he neared, he could see him more clearly; messy, pale brown hair, pink cheeks accentuated by his pale face, and bright blue eyes that looked too young to be those of a person who was clearly a seventh-year student. He smiled in a friendly way at Albus, who was cringing inside. He couldn't possibly go up against _him_. He would look ridiculous, and he knew it. The size of him! It made Albus feel very small just looking at his silhouette against the damp grass; a vast, black shape that seemed to stretch forever under the moonlight. Albus clutched his broom a little tighter in his right hand, though his palms were sweating. He took a small, timid step forward.

"Right, you two. What I'm going to ask you to do will be a little different from the others. I want you to mount your brooms on my whistle, and then I will release the Golden Snitch. The first person to catch the Snitch, will win the position of Seeker. Any questions?" Madame Hooch looked from Albus to his massive gorilla-like opponent. Albus noticed that he had a broad face, and a large nose. He didn't seem hostile, though, in any way. Albus was glad. If he picked a fight with someone that _big_, he would be floored in the first minute. He swallowed hard again, and prepared for Madame Hooch's whistle. His heart was thumping madly as she raised the tiny silver whistle to her lips, his brain whirring madly. He ignored the images in his head, and tried to concentrate. _You can do this_ his mind told him. _You _can_ do this_.

Then she gave a sharp blow of the whistle, and Albus mounted his broom clumsily in his nervousness; not a good start. He struggled to get a firm grip on the handle – this broom wasn't like the one he was used to riding at home. If he was awarded the Seeker position, he'd have to write home asking them to send his broom over. He just hoped this broom was good enough to impress Madame Hooch and catch the Snitch before his massive opponent. He glanced to his left; the broad-faced boy was leaning forward, face screwed up in concentration as he stared fixedly at a point in the navy sky. He hadn't noticed how long they'd been out; it must have been around six o'clock by now, and darkening quickly. It had taken longer to reach this point than he'd thought.

He braced himself, narrowing his eyes in his own concentration as he waited for Madame Hooch to release the tiny golden ball which would secure him a place on the team, if he caught it. It was time to show the catlike flying teacher what he could really do if he tried.

Then Madame Hooch blew her whistle again, a shrill sound to the eleven-year old's ears, and then came a click which signified that the trunk containing the Golden Snitch had been opened.

"I will release the Snitch in three, two, one...." another sharp, shrill blow from Madame Hooch, and Albus was off, soaring upwards into the chilled night air, poised for any view of the tiny golden ball....upward he flew, higher and higher, feeling the wind past his untidy hair, flapping his robes as it rushed past him. Then he remembered why he was here, and the euphoria of flying again wore off as he swung around for a better look of his surroundings. He narrowed his eyes; and there it was! A flicker of gold to the right of the direction of the moonlight. He took off at once, heading straight for it, hearing the wind whistle in his ears as he zoomed after the hazelnut-shaped ball that was his lifeline. He reached out, focused entirely on the object hovering in the air....

And he missed it, the tiny golden ball switching course so quickly he could have imagined it before he had a chance to grasp the fragile golden wings. Instead, his hand clutched at empty air, and he turned his broom around ready for the search once more. To his left, he saw his enormous opponent gaining on him; he had spotted the Snitch too, and was picking up speed as he charged after Albus, who instinctively leaned forward to gain speed. The Snitch was barely a few metres ahead, flickering teasingly in the cold air, wings fluttering madly as it hovered....he sped up as much as he dared, knowing his opponent was close on his tail...the whistling of the wind deafened him as he soared, and he dared take a hand off his broomstick, clutching the handle tightly between his knees as he reached out again for the Snitch.

It happened very quickly; one minute he had been soaring, hand outstretched, and the next the Snitch was struggling against his fingers, all the while Albus tried to stay on course as the lack of grip caused him to become off balance....and then he collided with a tree, and a sickening snap caused pain to shoot through his arm as he fell to the damp grass beneath the giant oak, cracking his head sharply on the frost-hardened ground.

"Ow!" he yelled out, clutching his right arm – luckily not the same arm injured by the Tentacula – and trying to blink back tears of pain as his head throbbed from the contact with the hard ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the glitter of the Snitch's wings from between his fingers; he held onto the tiny ball as tightly as he could, until his knuckles hurt. He didn't want to let it go, or might not have counted as a win and he wouldn't be able to be a Seeker.

"Mr. Potter, are you alright?" came the anxious voice of Madame Hooch as she jogged – yes, jogged – over to where he lay, his right arm smarting badly.

"I think my arm's broken" he moaned.

"Oh, dear. You went off course a bit there, didn't you?" she fussed, bending over him to inspect the said arm. He winced as she held his wrist and turned his arm this way and that, peering carefully at it as if it were some kind of intricate sculpture.

"I caught the Snitch, though" he said proudly despite the pain. He lifted up his good (yet still tender) left arm, where the ball still continued to struggle feebly in his hand. Madame Hooch's face lit up.

"So you did!" she exclaimed, suddenly looking happy. "Well done, Albus. I knew you would be able to do it – your father had a talent for flying well, it seems you have inherited it. He too did suffer a lot of injuries in his time, though. He was in the hospital wing constantly for some flying-related incident or other" she laughed. Albus smiled. "Now, how much does that arm hurt?" she asked him, serious again.

"A bit" he mumbled. "Is it broken, then? Will I still be able to play on the team – if I get in? I don't think they want someone who'll keep getting hurt" he asked anxiously. Madame Hooch laughed again, her catlike yellow eyes bright.

"Don't worry about that, Albus" she said. He was surprised when she used his first name. "The matron will be able to fix your arm in a heartbeat, you'll be up and about again in no time, I'm sure."

Her optimism was catching. Albus couldn't help but smile at her, even though his arm and his head were throbbing painfully. Madame Hooch helped him up, gently bringing him to his feet in a surprisingly light grip for someone who taught flying. Albus winced and moaned when his broken arm twisted slightly; Madame Hooch supported him around the shoulders, and walked with him briskly across the grounds. All the other hopefuls had now disappeared from the pitch; they must have all gone back to the Common Room.

Limply, he allowed himself to be towed up the steps to the Entrance, and Madame Hooch pushed open the huge oak double doors with one hand whilst keeping the other in a firm grip around Albus so as not to drop him and possibly break his other arm in the process. She steered him left across the Entrance Hall, and down a corridor (his broken arm was excruciatingly painful by now, and it was giving Albus a throbbing headache) where they were met by Professor McGonagall, square spectacles on the end of her nose and wearing a displeased and stern expression. Albus grimaced.

"Good evening, Minerva. I was just taking Albus to the hospital wing – broke his arm during Quidditch tryouts, but he caught the Snitch without any problems. It seems he's quite his father's son" Madame Hooch explained. "Terry Parker didn't look to happy, though, he's wanted to be Seeker for Gryffindor since his second year, and this was his last chance." Professor McGonagall looked at Albus over her glasses severely. So the enormous seventh-year whom Albus had competed against for the position of Seeker was called Terry Parker. He gulped. If he wasn't too happy to lose his chance to a first-year, he might not want to be in close proximity with Albus once he got back to the Common Room. He made a mental note to stay out of Terry Parker's way.

"Oh, dear. His father used to have a lot of Quidditch injuries too; I remember he nearly swallowed the Snitch in his first game" Professor McGonagall said, more to Albus than Madame Hooch. He grimaced, eyes wide. Swallowing the Snitch was definitely not something he hoped he would do in _his_ first game.

Professor McGonagall broke through his thoughts. "I'm glad one of the Potter's sons has the brains to do something reasonable with the talent he has" she nodded towards Albus, who smiled weakly despite the pain in his right arm. He felt the utmost pride when compared to being in the same league as his father; but he doubted even he injured both arms in his first two weeks of school, and he had no older brothers – or sisters, for that matter – that humiliated him with their bad behaviour.

"Nice talking to you Minerva, but I must get Albus to the matron or his arm will set crooked. Goodnight, professor" Madame Hooch addressed the Transfiguration teacher, who nodded gravely once and said, with a hint of smugness,

"Goodnight, Madame Hooch." Then she walked off, her mauve robes billowing past the two as she marched swiftly down the corridor.

The matron was less than surprised when she saw Albus enter the hospital wing; she must have known his reputation for clumsiness, or at least knew that he must have inherited the 'danger magnet' streak from his father. She rolled her eyes at Madame Hooch as she bustled over to him, taking his broken arm in her slender, tanned hands and examining it closely. She poked and prodded sharply; Albus winced more than a few times, but dared not make a noise as not to look babyish.

"It's definitely broken, Madame Hooch" she told the flying professor. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay overnight, Albus, that arm needs bandaging, and you'll have to take this potion" she addressed her words this time to Albus, then proceeded to pull a small crystal vial full of violet liquid out of her apron. She poured a tiny measure of it into a glass on the bedside table, and handed it to Albus. He looked at it for a moment, trying to guess what it was. He was sure he had seen something similar, if not the same, in Professor Slughorn's classroom during his very first Potions lesson. He couldn't remember what it was, however, and was deep in thought until the matron told him to drink the solution. It was sharp, and left a slight burn in Albus' throat.

He blinked, swallowing hard to get rid of the bitter aftertaste.

"You may leave, Madame Hooch. Albus will be fine with me" the matron said kindly with a smile. Madame Hooch nodded, and turned on her heel; she too left, her robes flowing like ribbons in the wind behind her. The matron turned back to Albus.

"What are we going to do with you?" she chuckled. "Bitten by a Tentacula one week, a few days later back in with a broken arm!" She shook her head; stray curls of her dark hair bounced on her shoulders. She pulled out her wand; long, thin and the colour of honey, she tapped his arm and muttered _"Emendo"_. A warmth flooded through his arm, from his wrist to his elbow – and he could no longer feel any pain there. He flexed his wrist gingerly. No, it didn't hurt. It didn't seem to be broken any more. _Magic can work wonders_ Albus thought. _No wonder Mum is such a good Healer._ The matron prodded at his arm again, checking the effect of her spell no doubt.

"All healed" she announced brightly. "But you'll still have to stay overnight, just to make sure it's as good as new" she gently helped Albus lean back on the pillows. He was sure this was exactly the same bed he had been in when he'd been bitten by the Tentacula. Certainly the situation of the bed seemed familiar.

The matron left momentarily, and then returned with an armful of bandages quite like the ones on his left arm. At this rate, he would turn into a live mummy. She carefully unravelled one roll of the coarse material, and then pushed back Albus' left sleeve slowly, so as not to jolt his arm. Despite the spell, it still needed time to heal in the proper position, and that was why the bandages were being used to keep Albus' arm stiff. He only hoped he could write with that arm afterwards, as he would have work assigned in the lessons, and he remembered that he had Transfiguration homework – to practice transfiguring a toothpick into a needle. He made a second mental note to ask Rose for help with that particular task. Somehow, he didn't think he would be too brilliant at Transfiguration if his first lesson had been anything to go by. With her wand again, she charmed the bandages to wrap themselves tightly around Albus' arm. The material was rough and stiff, most definitely some kind of starched cotton. He had seen his mother use similar fabric on her patients at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Once the roll of bandage had run out, another was instantly levitated into the air and began wrapping itself around Albus' arm, as had its predecessor. It was uncomfortably tight, but Albus didn't complain as he thought it would look rude. No doubt Rose and Molly would be wondering where he was, as it was late now. He checked the small silver alarm clock on his bedside table. It read ten past eight. Had he really been out for more than three hours?

With a flick of the matron's wand, the bandages stopped their wrapping and folded neatly into two rolls on the bedside table. The matron looked pleased. She took his arm to inspect carefully.

"Actually, Albus, I don't think you'll need to stay the night" she told him. "Your arm seems perfectly healed, so you're free to go. Be careful, mind; try not to bang it, or it could offset the bones and you'll have to come back to get it fixed." She raised an eyebrow. Albus managed a chuckle at her words, but hoped they wouldn't come true. She would think he was after some kind of record. Albus swung himself off the bed he was given, and smoothed down his robes. It was only then he realised that he still clutched the Snitch in his left hand.

"I'd better leave this for Madame Hooch to collect" he said. "Could I leave it here, and could you pass the message to Madame Hooch that you've got it?" he asked politely. The matron complied. Shutting the Snitch tightly in a small box containing various herbs, he thanked the matron and left the hospital wing.

*

Rose flew at him the minute he set foot in the portrait hole.

"Albus!" she cried out, flinging her arms around him. "I was so worried! What happened to you?" she pulled away from him, her expression worried yet critical. He could tell she was exasperated; he didn't have to look at the table laden with books and parchment to know why.

"I flew off course and crashed into a tree during the Seeker trials. It broke my arm, but the matron healed it. It's fine now" he explained. Rose frowned, and then her face softened.

"How did it go? Did you catch the Snitch?" Molly asked enthusiastically, appearing at Rose's elbow. Both Rose and Molly's expressions were eager.

"Yeah, I did. I'm on the team" he said proudly – and he _was_ proud. He was sure his father was going to be too once he got round to writing to him.

"Well done!" Rose squealed excitedly. "I knew you'd do it."

"That's brilliant, Albus" Molly interjected. Her dark eyes were alight. Albus grinned widely at the two girls. He had the right to be smug about it, hadn't he? He had, after all, beaten a seventh year for the position.

"Did Madame Hooch say when your first game is?" Rose asked.

"No, not yet" Albus said. "But I thought Quidditch season didn't start till October. It's only September now" he reasoned. Rose shrugged.

"I'm not sure" she replied.

The fire burned invitingly in the giant marble fireplace, and Albus longed to sit on the squashy crimson sofa and _relax_. Who knew his first year would be so tiring? Or maybe it was lack of sleep due to nerves prior to the Quidditch tryouts which made him so tired. He crossed the room in a few lazy steps, and slumped onto the sofa. Rose and Molly followed suit; Rose in an over-stuffed armchair on his left, Molly on a puffy stool at his feet on his right. As usual, Rose pulled out a heavy tome from her bag at her feet and flicked halfway through before resting the book on her lap and beginning to read. Molly took her wand out and examined it, as if looking for any hidden talents it might have. Albus didn't do anything; he was just glad to have time for himself, just him and his friends, in the place he had longed to be for so long. His Transfiguration homework could wait. It had been a long night.


	8. Talent for Trouble

_CHAPTER EIGHT_

_Talent for Trouble_

James was receiving another row, this time from Professor Flitwick.

"How many times have I told you? _No exuberant wand-waving in my class!_" the tiny Charms professor squeaked angrily. "It's unacceptable! What don't you understand about _no tomfoolery in class! _Now Andrea Clearwater will have to stay overnight in the hospital because you inflated her limbs to twice the normal size! _It's not funny, James Potter!"_ he scowled furiously at the troublesome second-year, who just grinned innocently – not the best move to make.

"You will have detention every night this week, my office, for your ignorance to rules! Starting tonight! Seven o'clock –"

"But Professor! I've already got detention for a month with McGon-I mean, Professor McGonagall. I can't have any more!" James protested.

"Oh yes, I heard about your _escapade_ with Mr. Filch's cat. And no, you _will_ serve detention for a week, Mr. Potter, and no excuses. Do you understand?" Professor Flitwick demanded. James looked at the floor.

"Yes" he muttered bitterly.

"Right, then, move along to your next class. And take this with you!" he snapped, giving James a slip of parchment explaining why he would be late for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Albus was sitting hunched over at the table in the Gryffindor Common Room for the third night in a row, working on a foot-long essay for Professor Slughorn on the basics of using essence of hellbore in Potion-making. His eyes were heavy with lack of sleep, and his wrist was aching from writing so much. He had never been used to this much work. He would have asked Rose for help, but she had gone to the library to do research for Charms and left him alone to get on with it. Molly wasn't around either; she had gone to bed early. If there was anything worse than a Potions essay, it was listening to Professor Binns drone on about the wizard crusades for an hour and a half. He had fallen asleep at one point, and had woken when the ghost had asked him a question to which he didn't know the answer, much to his embarrassment, as he didn't even know what he had asked in the first place.

He was about to call it a night and pack away his things when Rose burst through the Gryffindor portrait hole, furious.

"Albus! I want to talk to you!" she fumed, throwing her school satchel onto the crimson carpet and storming over to him. He turned round to meet her angry expression, face flushed and brows furrowed into a displeased frown.

"James has only gone at got himself his _third_ set of detentions in a fortnight!" she half-shouted, her face inches from his. Albus was alarmed.

"What's done now?" Albus asked in a quiet voice. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

"I'll tell you what he's done!" she spat angrily. "He's only gone and got himself caught trying to sneak out into Hogsmeade! Using the Whomping Willow! Last night!" her brown eyes blazed with fury. "Is he stupid, or what? He's making _us_ look bad by always getting into trouble!" she paused. "Albus, do you even _care?_"

"Not really" he admitted. This wasn't wise, for Rose then exploded.

"You don't _care _that my idiot of a cousin – your own brother – is making us look like a family of rule breakers? He's lost eighty points for Gryffindor already, do you know that? _Eighty!_ All my hard work, gone! How does that not bother you? If he carries on like this, we won't win the House Cup this year!" she yelled, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Albus flinched away from her, cringing inwardly. He hated it when she shouted like this. He knew she was embarrassed about having James Potter for a cousin, but she didn't have to _yell_ about it.

"Give it a rest, Rose" he told her. "Let James be an idiot if he wants to, he's always like this at home. I've learnt not to think much of it" he explained. True, he sometimes wished his brother wasn't as uncontrollable, but otherwise he had grown to ignore him when he misbehaved. Rose huffed angrily, before storming past Albus and up the stairs into the girls' dorm, slamming the door behind her.

_She won't help me with my homework now_ Albus thought. _Not when she's like this_. Deciding he'd have another look at his essay in the morning, he packed away his parchment, quill, books and ink. He thought it would be better to ask for help when Rose was in a better mood.

The next morning was a Saturday, and Albus was glad of the break. He woke to sun shining through the gaps in the heavy velvet hangings around his bed, and pulled on his clothes with a smile on his face. He hoped to get out into the grounds today; he fancied exploring, and with the map handy, he wasn't likely to get caught either.

He met Molly and Rose at the long Gryffindor table at breakfast; Rose was still in a foul mood, hunched over a book and scowling. She didn't look up as Albus sat down opposite her, and helped himself to toast. He thought it best not to say anything to her at the moment – she might bite his head off if he tried. A little way down, Albus spotted James sitting with a few of his friends he knew vaguely from their visits to the Potter's during the summer. Perhaps it was just Albus, but he looked a little...embarrassed. Perhaps he had finally realised how much trouble he was getting himself in, and it was only the beginning of his third week back. Albus averted his gaze, and turned instead to watch the enchanted ceiling overhead. The sky was a clear, bright blue, not a single cloud in sight, which made a change from the usual winter weather. He hoped it would be warm outside, as he wanted to take a walk today, have a nosy around the grounds. Get to know his surroundings better, even though his mother and father had told him many stories about their adventures here, one in particular involving a family of Acromantula that had tried to eat his father and his uncle in their second year. It had put him off taking a trip to the Forbidden Forest for a while, unless he really needed to.

"I forgot to ask, how are your arms?" Molly suddenly interjected, her voice making Albus jump in the quiet.

"They're okay, yeah. I can hardly feel anything, no pain at all" he replied, flexing his once-broken arm for effect. "It's like I never broke it at all". Molly only smiled in response to this, for then the post owls arrived, sweeping over the tables out of habit, looking for the recipients of the letters and packages they carried. Albus immediately spotted Jemima, swooping towards him with barely a flutter of her tawny wings. She landed on the table in front of him awkwardly, and Albus could see why; the package she carried tied to her right leg was quite large and suspiciously cake-box shaped. He hoped it was one of his mother's sponge cakes. He could eat one of them whole quiet easily – he had never tasted anything like it.

When he'd untied the parcel, Jemima nipped his fingers affectionately, then flew off with the other post owls, glad to be relieved no doubt of the heavy burden tied to her leg. Before he could open it, however, there was a crash; Rose had knocked over her goblet of pumpkin juice, which was now seeping across the table like treacle. She made no effort to clean it away. Instead, she paled; her eyes were fixed on something a little way away from them, and whatever it was had caused her to jump thus sending her goblet flying. Albus followed her gaze – and then flushed with embarrassment.

Jemima hadn't only had a parcel for Albus, but something for James as well. He looked as though he might faint as he held the incriminating red envelope in his hands. A Howler. Albus groaned. Now the whole school would know that he was related to a serial rule-bender. Not only that, but the whole school would hear his mother ranting and raving at his brother.

"Just open it, James!" one of his brother's friends hissed, rather loudly. "Get it over with; it's better than ignoring it! It'll explode if you do that!"

"Get it over with, mate" another advised him. Rose was glowering at James as if he were dog mess. Albus didn't blame her. They both, along with Molly, held their breath as James sliced open the offending mail with a nearby knife. Albus could read the expression of fear on his brother's face clearly even though he was a good eight feet away from him.

"JAMES SIRIUS POTTER!" his mother's voice bellowed from the warped scarlet envelope. "ONLY YOU COULD GET YOURSELF INTO _THIS MUCH TROUBLE_! DO YOU KNOW HOW _EMBARRASSING_ IT WAS FOR YOUR FATHER AND I TO RECIEVE A NOTE FROM THE HEADMISTRESS ABOUT YOUR BEHAVIOUR? _THREE DETENTIONS IN A FORTNIGHT! THREE!_ DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I SAID WHEN I WARNED YOU NOT TO FOOL AROUND THIS YEAR? CLEARLY _NOT!_ IF YOU DO SO MUCH AS BREATHE OUT OF LINE AGAIN, JAMES POTTER, YOU'LL NEVER BE ALLOWED HOME AGAIN!" Mrs. Potter finished her angry shrieking, and the letter tore itself up before going up in flames before the alarmed boy's eyes. Everyone had turned to stare; even Scorpius Malfoy, whom Albus caught ogling the situation from the Slytherin table out of the corner of his eye. Rose looked as if she might cry.

"Well" Molly said after a few moments. "It could have been worse". Albus and Rose gaped at her.

"How? _How_ could it have been worse?" Rose hissed. "My cousin just embarrassed me in front of the entire school!"

"He could have been sent a poisonous letter" Molly explained. "I got one once, after I got myself suspended from primary school back home in Dublin. I was covered in hives for days."

"_What_?" Rose gasped, perplexed.

"You wouldn't understand" Molly said pointedly."Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to see if Professor Longbottom will let me have one of those cactus things. I'm rather fond of them since our last lesson" and with that she left, swinging her bag over her shoulder as she went.

The rest of the day was especially awkward. All those who knew that James and Albus were related kept staring at them, their eyes judging. He couldn't pass any Gryffindor in the corridor without feeling their eyes on his back; Rose, too. She had the nerve to respond with a death glare; Albus just looked at the floor, trying to hide his flushed face.

It was when they were walking to the Common Room at the end of the day after being out in the grounds that they came across Scorpius Malfoy and Esmeralda Zabini talking in hushed voices behind a stone pillar. The three had been just about to turn a corner when they caught a snippet of what the youngest Malfoy was saying to his cousin;

"_It was really easy, I didn't have to _do_ anything. They lapped it all up, stupid Gryffindors...I still don't know why I have to pretend to like them, Esme" _Scorpius was saying. Albus stopped breathing momentarily. So his politeness was a ruse. Anger rose in his chest as he listened for more.

"_Because you have to be friends with them, and then tell your parents everything that they say! Honestly, Scorpius, I thought you were intelligent" _came the voice of Esmeralda Zabini. "_It'll be a fun experiment just to see if this House Unity stuff is for real"_

Albus swore under his breath. That was _it_. He charged around the corner, suddenly fuming, directly into the path of the two conspiring Slytherins. He roughly pushed Zabini out of the way; and then when he reached Scorpius, swung his arm back with as much force as he could.

THWACK.

There was a satisfactory crunch as Albus' fist collided with the small boy's nose; he staggered backwards, whimpering and clutching at his face. He could see scarlet blood dripping down his face. Albus had broken his nose.

"Albus!" Rose squeaked. "What have you done?" she rushed forward, but Zabini barred her way. She certainly was tall; her long, wavy dark hair fell in ripples to the centre of her back and her equally dark skin was smooth and perfect.

"Watch where you're going, _Muggle_" she spat at her. They seemed to have forgotten Scorpius, who was now sitting with his back against the cold stone wall, trying to stench the flow of blood from his newly-broken nose. Albus suddenly realised that hitting him hadn't been a good idea at all.

"What is going on here?" Professor McGonagall shouted, marching down the corridor towards them, face set like stone. Albus gulped.

"It was Potter, Professor! He hit Scorpius!" Zabini pointed at him emphatically, fake worry now etched into her features. McGonagall glared at him.

"Did you, Mr Potter?" the headmistress asked him. Albus had no choice but to tell the truth. He nodded his head. McGonagall's expression turned livid.

"Well, I am most ashamed of you! I didn't think you'd be one to cause trouble, certainly. Your brother, maybe, but not you" she look towards Zabini. "Where is Mr Malfoy?"

At her words, Scorpius got up from the floor and allowed Esmeralda to support him. It was quite clear what had been done to him; his nose and mouth were bloody, and it looked as if there was evidence of tears in his blue eyes. Albus immediately felt very guilty.

"Oh, dear. You'd better get to the hospital wing, Scorpius. Take Miss Zabini with you" she turned towards Albus. "You and Miss Weasley can stay here. I am most disappointed...in both of you" she snapped, and then turned on her heel. "I am going to check if Mr Malfoy is alright". As the three left, Scorpius turned back to look at the three of them. Out of the corner of his eye, Albus saw Rose mouth something to him.

_I'm really sorry, Scorpius_. He returned her apology with a bright smile, despite his injury, showing a lot of very white teeth.

"I think he likes you, Rose" Molly said suddenly, surprising them both. They had forgotten she was even there. He turned, and Albus saw Rose blush salmon pink.

"No, he doesn't" she insisted. But the colour in her cheeks deepened. Albus just hoped he wouldn't get into _too_ much trouble for this.

"You've really done it now" Rose hissed angrily.


	9. Family Pride

_CHAPTER NINE_

_Family Pride_

Professor McGonagall returned with a less than pleased expression on her face. Behind her walked Violet Sinistra, the short, plump woman in her mid-twenties that had lead the first years to the boats at the beginning of the year. She didn't look happy either.

"You will serve detention with Miss Sinistra tonight, and tomorrow night and the following night" Professor McGonagall explained. "Miss Weasley and Miss Finnigan will accompany you in your punishment, as they are too guilty by association. No excuses"

"But I didn't do anything, and neither did Molly!" Rose protested.

"You didn't prevent the assault on Mr. Malfoy. Thanks to Mr. Potter here the boy has a nose which has been broken in two places and a hairline fracture in his cheekbone. The matron will be able to fix it in the blink of an eye, certainly, but there will be bruising" Professor McGonagall said in a clipped tone. "The three of you will serve detention for the next three nights, without fail. Violet, explain to these students what they must do, for I must get back to my office."

As soon as Professor McGonagall left, Violet Sinistra turned to them with barely a smile on her young face. Albus gulped.

"You three will come with me to the Trophy Room" she told them. "There's a special task there I want you to do for me" she cracked a warm smile when she saw the worry on Albus' face. "Don't worry – I'm not as scary as McGonagall, I'm not going to bite you."Albus relaxed – a little. "It will take a while to do though, and it's pretty tough, so it fits in with your triple detention nicely. Follow me, then"

The Trophy Room was dark, lit only by a medium-sized fireplace built into one wall. The room was filled with dozens of glass cases full of gleaming silver trophies, shields, and miscellaneous awards won by the former students of Hogwarts. Albus spotted several Quidditch Cups and wondered the name of which house was engraved on them. Another case held a handful of silver shields set with sparkling emeralds, rubies, sapphires and diamonds. He noticed there were more with sapphires than any other stone.

Violet lead them towards the back of the room, into a smaller alcove through a roughly hewn wooden door. This room was considerably darker; the only light was two small oil lamps resting on an old desk. Every surface in the room was covered in more glittering silver trophies and awards. These were bigger, the more prestigious prizes that Hogwarts offered. The only space not filled was a small, round table in a corner surrounded by three wooden chairs. One each for Albus, Rose and Molly. Though he didn't see what he would have to do for his detention here.

"Sit" Violet ordered the three of them, waving towards the small table. They obeyed immediately, Albus taking the middle seat between Rose and Molly. Violet lifted a large box full of even _more_ trophies from somewhere underneath the table and placed it on the table in front of them. She tipped the box to show them. These trophies were nowhere near as sparkling or as clean as the ones around them and in the previous room; they had rusted with age, the silver dull and worn.

"No prizes for guessing what you have to do tonight" Violet grinned. "These trophies need a good scrubbing, and I just don't have the time. You'll find everything you need in this box. I'll come back for you in an hour" she turned to Albus. "And try not to punch anyone while I'm gone."

Rose was quick to complain as soon as Violet left, and for the first five minutes refused to do any work at all. Albus simply ignored her; he might as well get some done tonight and make a headway with this detention. _Best to adjust to the situation rather than force the situation to adjust to you_ a voice in Albus' mind told him. He had a suspicion he had heard the phrase before, but couldn't think where. Instead of thinking too much of it, he reached into the box and lifted out a medium-sized shield encrusted with glittering sapphires. So it was something that belonged to Ravenclaw house. He reached for the cloth and solution Violet had left underneath the table and his head collided with Rose's foot.

"Ow!" he complained, rubbing his head with the palm of his hand.

"Sorry" Rose said coldly. Her expression was stern and most definitely displeased. Molly furrowed her eyebrows at her; she obviously didn't like Rose's callousness either. Taking a closer look at the shield he held in his hand, he saw that it was an award for _Outstanding Achievement in Transfiguration_. Underneath, what was probably the recipient of the award was etched into the dull metal but had been badly obscured by thick brown rust. His job was to clean it off and polish it. Taking the cloth in hand, he put a little of the greenish solution onto it and rubbed at the metal. The rust didn't budge. He tried a little more. This time, flecks of copper residue fluttered onto the table. Albus groaned under his breath. This was more than a three-minute job. If only he could do more advanced magic! Then he could have the rust gone and the shield polished until it shone in a matter of seconds; this one looked like it would take hours. Instead of complaining, however, he simply got on with it.

The same couldn't be said of Rose, however. She was reluctantly scrubbing at a particularly large shield, grumbling and muttering under her breath as she worked. Albus caught odd words and phrases of what she was saying, "_stupid boy...doesn't know what he's doing...only wanted to be friends...idiot...James is the same...so prejudiced..."_ At first he was annoyed; then he soon learnt to block out her displeased mumblings and get on with his work. In time, the rust on the shield shifted, though Albus' arm (and this, make note, was the one he had recently broken during Quidditch tryouts) was aching badly, his wrist stiff and sore. The light of the lamp was dimming; and Albus was soon straining his eyes to see the object he was holding. He hoped he wouldn't need glasses as a result of this detention. He didn't really need any more resemblance to his father to encourage people to stare. James already caused people to do that more than necessary.

Reluctantly, however, Rose picked up a rusted trophy and inspected it gingerly. It was only small, so it shouldn't have been too much of a task for a girl who believed in making the most out of every situation. But she was quick to complain that her arm would hurt, and she had five feet of homework to complete before Wednesday and it was now Monday, and she had to deliver a letter home and read chapter seven of _Hogwarts: A History Revised_ by tonight. Albus merely ignored her, and Molly did the same. Glancing up from the corner of one green eye, he saw her bent over a particularly large shield, brow furrowed in concentration. He turned back to the task in hand. At least he'd managed to get some of the rust off. Scrubbing at it again, the letters underneath began to emerge.

As the time ticked by and the light from the lamp dimmed to a bare glow, Albus had managed to shift the rust obscuring the name of the recipient of the award he held in his hand. It read, _Cassandra Felacotta, Ravenclaw House – 1843_. So these trophies were very, very old. An object from the mid-nineteenth century! Of course, he knew Hogwarts to be a thousand years old anyway, so the age of the objects within its walls shouldn't have surprised him. His eyes drooping as he made a half-hearted attempt at shifting some more rust from the award, he heard the door open and Violet Sinistra came in.

"Right, you're free to go now" she told them. Rose stood up at once, eager to leave; Molly followed, and Albus was last but not least. He was suddenly very tired, and just wanted to go back to the Common Room and rest. But then he remembered his Transfiguration homework, and sighed under his breath as he followed the three out of the tiny store room. As they passed through the main trophy room, he marvelled again at the immense amount of glimmering trophies, shields and awards that Hogwarts had accumulated over the hundreds of years since its founding. In the glow of the fire, the silver metal shone and glittered in a way which made them look expensive and valuable. Once at the door, Violet turned to them.

"I just need to have a little word with Professor McGonagall" she said. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes".

Rose took this opportunity to examine the trophies on display, but being careful not to breathe or leave fingerprints on the glass cases. Molly followed suit, frowning to read the names on the awards, shields and trophies in the dimmed light. Albus, however, stayed behind. He thought it best to stay where he was; and anyway, he was worried he might knock something over.

"Albus! Come here!" Rose squealed delightedly. He turned in the direction her call came from. "You have to see this!"She was waving at him from the other end of the room and pointing at a large silver cup in one of the bigger, most ornate glass cases. He walked over to where she was and followed her pointing finger. "Look!" she exclaimed.

"What am I looking at?" he asked, puzzled. He didn't recognise it for what it was at first.

"Read it!" came her excited reply. Happy that she had seemed to have broken out of her foul mood, he looked. And blinked several times. His mouth gaped open in shock.

_Hogwarts Quidditch Cup 1996_

_Gryffindor_

_Quidditch Captain – Harry James Potter _

_Seeker – Harry James Potter_

"See?" Rose asked excitedly. "Quidditch is in your blood, Albus. Your grandfather used to be Seeker for Gryffindor too."

"I knew dad played Quidditch when he was school" came his awed reply. "But I didn't know they'd won the Cup when he was on the team."

Albus could barely believe his eyes, only gape in awe at the shining silver Cup in front of him. His father had never told him he had helped Gryffindor win the prestigious Quidditch Cup! Yes, he'd known that Harry Potter had indeed been on the Gryffindor team, but he hadn't known of the success he'd had. Albus felt his heart swell with pride at this new knowledge. It was _his_ family name on that Cup and _his_ family's success engraved in silver forever. This proved that Albus had what it took to become such a brilliant flyer as his father! He couldn't stop from grinning and his face flushed with happiness. Rose caught his eye, and smiled too.

It was at that moment Violet Sinistra returned, pink in the face and somewhat windswept, though a smile was fixed on her face.

"Right, then, you may leave. Make sure you're here the same time tomorrow night for your second detention. You'll be doing the same job, and I want at least half that box polished up by the time you've served your sentence. Understand?"

The three of them nodded their agreement.

"Good" Violet concluded. "You can go now"

Without another word, the three of them left the Trophy Room, glad to be free of detention. Rose had distinctly perked up, and was animatedly chatting with Molly while Albus allowed his mind to wander as they walked up the several flights of stairs to Gryffindor Tower. He thought of seeing his father's name on that cup...how proud it made him feel to have Harry Potter for a father...how happy it made him...how he hoped he'd be as good as that if he got on the team...

However, they reached the Tower all too quickly, and Albus remembered that he had two essays to complete plus he had forgotten completely about his parent's letter. After the Howler they sent James, though, he was reluctant to mail them in case Professor McGonagall had told them about him punching Scorpius Malfoy. He regretted it now; he could see that it had been a mistake, and that Scorpius hadn't meant what he'd said, he was just telling Esmeralda what she wanted to hear....yes, that was it. He'd seen the look on the Slytherin boy's face, pleadingly apologetic as he was lead to the hospital wing with a clearly broken nose. In fact, Albus had no idea he was that strong; he had only wanted to hit him, to show him he was angry about what he'd said...

Sitting down at the circular table in the Common Room, he pulled out his Transfiguration essay and books, along with a couple of quills and ink, and opened _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ at chapter two, 'Transfiguration Law in Practice'. His eyelids were heavy, and it wasn't until then that he realised he was rather tired. But no, his homework had to be done. He couldn't put it off another night. Sighing, he picked up his quill and began to write.

Two hours later, it was edging at almost midnight and Albus was falling asleep sitting upright at the table in the corner. Rose and Molly had since gone to bed, as had the rest of his house, and he was left alone in the Common Room as the great fire spluttered and died out in the soot-blackened grate. He had written three feet of parchment and was fairly pleased with himself. He just hoped McGonagall would feel the same way when he handed it in on Monday morning. Closing his books and packing away his quills and ink, he shuffled away from the table and swung his bag over his shoulder. He could barely stand upright, he was so tired. He dragged himself up the stone steps to the dormitory, where the sounds of heavy breathing told him his roommates were fast asleep. Not bothering to undress or pull the hangings closed, he collapsed into bed with the final thought that he would find Scorpius tomorrow and apologise for hitting him.


	10. Seeker

_CHAPTER TEN_

_Seeker_

Albus woke to something quite large hitting him on the head repeatedly. Opening one blurry eye, he saw a flash of red quite near to his face. Rose.

"Get up, Albus! Come on!" she hit him again. Albus groaned and pulled the duvet higher up over his head to avoid her blows.

"Come on! Madam Hooch wants to see you!" Rose shook him hard, ripping the duvet back from his body. At the sound of the flying teacher's name, Albus sat bolt upright, rubbing his eyes fiercely.

"What does she want me for?" he asked eagerly. "Is it about the Seeker position? Is it? Rose!" he slapped her on her arm. She turned around. "What did Hooch want to see me for?"

Rose shrugged. "I don't know, do I? She didn't say. Now come on!" she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him up. It took Albus a few moments to remember that he hadn't taken his uniform off last night before going to bed. His robes were crumpled from sleeping in them. Rose frowned. "And get changed, you look like you slept in a hedge". She turned on her heel, and left the boys dormitory. Looking around him, Albus noticed that the other boys were up and had already left for breakfast. He glanced at his bedside clock. It was quarter to nine.

Hurriedly, he dressed in fresh clothes and almost flew down the steps to meet Rose at the portrait hole. He now noticed that she was wearing jeans a pink fleece pullover, and her cheeks were rosy – either from the warmth of the castle or the cold outside, he couldn't tell. Together they went down for breakfast, Rose telling him that Molly was already waiting for them there.

The Great Hall was full of students chatting and laughing, food piled high on golden plates along each of the four house tables. The aroma of frying bacon met Albus' nostrils and hunger raged inside him. He flopped down between Rose and Molly, and was eagerly helping himself to sausages when Professor McGonagall appeared behind him, her expression not the look of disappointment that she had worn the previous night.

"Madame Hooch has asked me to tell you that she has decided to award you the position of Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Mr. Potter" she told him. _Yes! I got it!_ Albus beamed, and felt his face flush with happiness. "Congratulations – I see you're quite your father's son" Professor McGonagall smiled, the skin around her eyes creasing up. "Don't forget to practice, now – keep that winning streak" and she turned and left. Albus turned back to Molly, excitement alight in his green eyes. She also wore a smile at his achievement.

"Well done, Albus. I knew you'd get it" she praised him.

"Yeah, well done. Bet Terry Parker's livid at losing the position to a first year" Molly said. Albus grimaced in mock terror. Who cared whether Terry Parker hated him or not for this? The point was, he'd got the position he'd dreamed of. Seeker! Him! It was too good be true, surely! And then his smile faded a little when a realisation hit him. He didn't have a broom.

Molly saw his disappointed expression.

"What's wrong, Albus? I thought you wanted to be a Seeker" she asked him. He shook his head.

"I don't have a broom, I won't be able to practice" he told her sadly. Molly laughed.

"You'll be able to borrow one of the school ones, silly. You can write to your parents and ask them to buy you one of your own" she explained with a smile. She was right. Why didn't he remember that? He'd used one of the school brooms in the Quidditch tryouts, of course! How could he have forgotten, when that very broom had caused him to break his arm? Albus made a mental note to practice landing properly in the future. He didn't want another breakage so quickly.

When breakfast was over Albus, Rose and Molly made their way to the library, as they had a free period and it was too cold to go outside. They found a small, rectangular table in the left corner, right next to the radiator, and sat down. The place smelled of old books and ink; to their left and front, there were rows upon rows of bookshelves stacked with all kinds of books on everything from Herbology to wizarding history to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Some were older than others, their bindings coming loose and their spines torn; others were new, the leather covers smelling fresh, and the thick parchment pages a pure, snowy white.

Rose, who had brought her bag with her, dumped it on the table and began rummaging through it, pulling miscellaneous books, quills and bottles of ink out of it and placing them on the table. Molly and Albus exchanged glances. They knew what was coming, and sure enough a few moments later Rose pulled out her copy of _Hogwarts: A History Revised _and packed away the rest of the debris. Albus suppressed a sigh and the urge to roll his eyes. Rose opened the book to where a torn piece of parchment was sticking out of the top about an eighth of the way through, and immediately began to read. Albus put his head on his arms and watched her, thinking. He couldn't wait to tell his father that he had been made Seeker on his house team, just like he was...he felt so proud, following in his father's footsteps the way he was. If only James had some ambition like Albus did. Then perhaps he wouldn't get into so much trouble.

He thought of his sister, Lily, who was surely missing him back home. She, like Albus had, couldn't wait to finally go to Hogwarts and learn magic. She had pestered their parents for months when James got his letter, asking them question after question about the castle, the lessons, the grounds, the teachers, the ghosts, the Black Lake, Quidditch and all manner of things connected with magic in general. She had listened avidly when his father told stories of his own adventures when he was Hogwarts, her eyes wide with amazement as he told her about the Basilisk and the Dementors and a Hippogriff named Buckbeak whom he'd saved from execution by means of a strange golden device called a Time Turner. In truth, Albus had listened to these stories with the same eagerness as his younger sister, wanting to know more about his father's school life, the bravery with which he was branded at the mere age of eleven, the age that Albus was now. But, for some reason, he'd always avoid the subject of his defeat of He Who Must Not Be Named. Whenever Lily or James or Albus asked him about how he got rid of Lord Voldemort once and for all, how he battled him year after year and still survived to tell the tale afterwards, he would clam up and refuse to tell them anything. Perhaps some of those particular memories were still painful for him to recall to this day. Or perhaps he'd had enough of people pestering him about such incidents that he had decided he wasn't going to answer their probing questions any more. Whichever it was, he never seemed to want to talk about that aspect of his younger days.

Albus looked up from his position to find Rose still engrossed in _Hogwarts: A History Revised_. Molly was inspecting her fingernails with a bored expression, her gaze flickering across the rows of books in somewhat distaste. A library mustn't be her kind of thing. To be honest with himself, Albus would rather be out in the open air no matter how cold it was, rather than be in a library with nothing to do while his cousin (and all too avid learner) sat and read continuously. He doubted she'd even notice if he slipped out now, stopped at the Common Room to fetch his cloak and went outside for a walk. Watching Rose Weasley read was often like sitting watching paint dry, no matter how used to it you were.

Rubbing his eyes, he sat upright and looked around, focusing on the little details of the room to pass the time. He noticed how, near the skirting board, the planks of wood which made up the walls was worn and gritty; how the hum of the pipes beneath the radiator was unnecessarily loud; how the white paint of the ceiling was in fact not white at all, more a murky cream; and how the bookends on each of the shelves had almost all toppled over, sending the neatly stacked row of books over onto each other like a set of dominoes which had been flicked. Looking at the library more closely now, he'd rather sit in the Common Room and watch the flames of the fire dance in the grate while the wind blew sharply outside. But, he put up with it so as not to put Rose in a bad mood. He could tell that Molly was thinking the same things as he was, but putting up with it also because Rose was her friend. He caught her eye now, and she rolled her eyes and grimaced. Albus snorted, and Rose looked up and frowned at him. Molly raised an eyebrow, and stuck her tongue at Rose's back. Albus laughed, his mind not entirely thinking on the consequences if he angered his cousin whilst she was trying to read. Rose looked up again, her glare more displeased than before.

"What's so funny?" she snapped. Molly and Albus exchanged another glance.

"Nothing" Molly shrugged. "Just thought of a joke" Albus nodded his agreement, pretending he had been thinking the same thing. Rose huffed and returned to her book.

Extremely bored, Albus turned his gaze to the window which he could see between two bookcases on his left. Outside, the sky was grey and dark, the Quidditch stadium an ominous silhouette against the thick cloud. He couldn't tell, but it must have been raining outside as with the banging of the wind against the glass came tiny tinkling sounds, like someone was throwing fistfuls of small stones at the windows. He hoped it wouldn't be like this when he had Quidditch practice; the last thing he needed was to break both his legs because his broom had been blown off course. It was a distinct possibility with him, after all. His mother had always told him he was clumsy when it came to these things, particularly when he was younger and always falling over things. He remembered a specific time when he had fallen at school and sprained his ankle, and his mother had come to fetch him almost laughing because she knew how clumsy he could be. Not that Albus had found it funny; he'd had to walk with crutches for two weeks and have his foot bandaged so it looked like he'd had his foot amputated and replaced with the foot of a particularly large polar bear. He couldn't wait to fly again, to be up in the air with the wind racing past him. Flying was in his genes, passed down from his grandfather and his father. It was in his blood. He had no reason to worry about making a fool of himself at all.

He didn't know about the other teams, though. He didn't know who the other Seekers were – and who he would have to face in his first Quidditch match. He hoped it wasn't someone like Terry Parker – a jealous loser. In fact, he hadn't given the other teams much thought. He'd have to ask Madame Hooch how the matches worked, though he knew that every year Hogwarts held a Quidditch Tournament and the victorious team won the Quidditch Cup. When his father had been on the team, Gryffindor had won the cup three times. He hoped he could uphold the tradition.

His gaze returned to the table where he sat. He was surprised to see that Rose had stopped reading her beloved book and was hastily scribbling something on a scrap of parchment. Molly was tapping her foot on the floorboards. Still the wind howled against the windows, and the rain came down even heavier than before. _Not particularly good flying conditions_ Albus thought. _I still hope we can practice tonight_. Rose finished writing and looked up, folding the parchment in half and sliding it into her pocket. Albus and Molly were looking at her.

"What?" she asked. They both shook their heads.

"Come on, then. You've finished, haven't you? I want to back to the Common Room and that essay done for Flitwick" Molly got up from her chair all too quickly, zipping up her jacket. Rose followed. Albus was last to leave the rectangular corner table, perfectly comfortable sitting in the warm whilst the rain lashed outside. He hoped it would dry up in time for Quidditch practice; he would have no hope of even catching a glimpse of the tiny golden Snitch in this current weather.

Sometime during that afternoon, Victoire came up to Albus with a message for him.

"Madame Hooch told me to tell you that Gryffindor's first practice session is tonight at six o'clock , down on the Quidditch pitch" she explained, flicking a stray strand of her long, silvery blonde hair over one shoulder. Her Head Girl badge shone on her robes where it was pinned just above the Gryffindor crest.

"Thanks, Victoire" Albus replied. "I'll be there"

Saturday evening came all too quickly, and it before Albus knew it, it was six o'clock and he was grabbing his broomstick from the large wooden cupboard in the changing rooms. He met Madame Hooch and the other players on the team on the pitch, just as he had done during Quidditch tryouts. He recognised a few of the faces there; Amanda Braithwate, a dark-haired boy and the honey blond male who had hoped to be a Beater. He did not, however, recognize the other three players standing in a close group near Madame Hooch. He certainly hadn't seen them the night of the tryouts. Two were girls, each with the same thick curly hair, and the third was another boy, slightly taller than Albus was with dark skin. He guessed that the two females were around fifth year; the male only in his second.

"Oh, good, Albus, you're here" Madame Hooch waved him over. "This is Albus Potter; our new Seeker" she addressed the rest of the team. He noticed that they were already dressed in scarlet and gold Gryffindor robes. Two of the boys carried Beater's bats. Amanda Braithwate held the Quaffle under one arm.

"Now, we won't be getting into any serious training tonight – that work will start next practice. Tonight, we'll just see how everyone fits in, so everyone get into a group over there" Madame Hooch told them, her yellow catlike eyes following Albus as he nervously joined the others. Amanda caught his eye and smiled. He returned the gesture, though his heart was in his mouth. He watched as Madame Hooch opened the trunk containing the three types of playing balls – only the two Bludgers, fighting to be freed of their leather restraints, and the golden Snitch remained inside.

"Remember, we do have an important match in four weeks time, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The opening match of the season. We want to win the Tournament this year, or it'll give Professor Slughorn yet another excuse as to why Slytherins should be given second chances" Madame Hooch told them. "Right, Amanda, Jack, Peter – mount your brooms; the rest of you do the same" The dark-haired male, Amanda and the short, black boy walked forward.

Returning to the Gryffindor Common Room an hour later, Albus was exhausted. Madame Hooch had made him fly around the pitch countless times in search of the tiny Golden Snitch, and four out of every five times he caught the speeding winged ball within mere minutes of setting off. Now, he was tired and ached all over. He wanted nothing more than to fall straight to sleep.

Shrugging off his cloak, he slumped into one of the squashy armchairs by the fire. Quite a few pairs of curious eyes followed him as he did so, but he chose to ignore them. He rested his head against the back of the chair, flexing his right arm carefully. It felt fine now. The Hogwarts matron really could work wonders. The glass face of his watch caught his eye. The slowly turning hands showed him it was ten past seven. Outside, the sky had darkened to almost black and through the roar of the orange flames in the grate he could hear the howling of the wind. He had always had good eyesight and, if he squinted, he could just make out the towering spectators stands of the Quidditch stadium not far ahead. He couldn't wait until the impending match against Slytherin, however nervous he may be. To be up in the air, speeding through the sky not only just for leisure but to compete, to _win___something...he had thought flying for the first time at the age of seven had been extraordinary. But winning with it, too? He had only heard storied of his father's victory as Seeker for the Gryffindor team, and how lovely it sounded too! And hopefully, in a few years' time, he too would wear the glimmering gold badge on his scarlet Quidditch robes declaring him team Captain of Gryffindor...

Albus was broken from his reverie when a shadow fell across his vision. A shadow that was short, redheaded and freckled.

"Hi, Rose" he told her, grinning. She sat on the arm of the chair beside him.

"How did practice go?" she asked him immediately.

"It was great. Fantastic to get to fly again" he said. "Where's Molly?" Rose's face fell.

"Hospital wing. She tripped over the statue of the One-Eyed Witch and sprained her ankle" Rose smiled, and then her expression suddenly became serious. Albus frowned. She moved from her position on the arm of the chair and sat beside him, her brow furrowed.

"I saw Scorpius in the library today" she said sternly. It took a few moments for Albus to catch on.

"How's his nose?" he finally asked her.

"Fine, now the bruising has gone down" Rose answered stiffly. Albus sensed that she wasn't quite ready to forgive him for punching him. "He said he wants to speak to you, personally" she added. "To apologise."

Albus took a moment to register this information.

"Oh" he said. "Well, um, what did you tell him?" he asked, swallowing hard. She looked at him carefully before replying.

"I told him you should learn to control your temper, actually" she answered, rather pompously. Albus thought he saw her nose turn upwards with dissatisfaction. He didn't know what to say to this, so instead he stammered,

"But what did you, um, say about me apologising?"

She gave him an odd look. Albus was very aware of the other, older students around them; he felt as if each pair of eyes in the room were on him and Rose. Well, Rose not so much. She didn't have the shadow of an incredibly famous father to live under.

"I didn't" she told him. Her voice was rather pointed, and he could tell that she did not want to be having this conversation with him.

"What am I supposed to do then? I won't see him again until..." Albus scanned through his timetable mentally quickly "second lesson on Wednesday morning, that's Transfiguration with the Slytherins. All our classes are with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw before that." Rose, however, remained adamant.

"Then you'll go and find him in your own time. You've got the whole weekend to apologise; you could look in the library, he's often in there" she said, her voice hard. Her freckled face had taken on the expression of someone talking to a naughty child, or someone who was failing to see the obvious.

"How do _you_ know?" Albus spluttered. The words simply slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, and were a little more accusing than he would have liked them to be. In the firelight of the common room, Rose turned pink and looked away, pretending to be fixing a loose thread on her sleeve.

"Me?" she blinked, absent-minded. "Oh, I've spoken to him a couple of times when I've seen him in there. We're friends." Her blush deepened, and Albus decided not to press the matter.

*

It was on Sunday morning - after being forced into the library for a good hour by Rose in order to finish an essay set for them by Professor Slughorn - that Albus found Scorpius. He was sitting outside under an elm tree, reading the kind of large tome that Rose would have relished. The torrential downpour and high winds had stopped and the sun had come out, bathing the grounds of the castle in a pleasant warmth. From the direction in which he stood, Albus could see the flags atop the spectators' stands of the Quidditch pitch fluttering in a light breeze.

At first, he did not know what to say to Scorpius. What _should_ he say? Sorry for breaking his nose, or for misunderstanding the situation? Or perhaps both? He was dawdling, dragging his feet in the still dewy grass, when Rose poked him hard in the small of the back and told him to get on with it. Albus quickly obeyed, and both girls hung back whilst he walked up to the blond boy sitting under the almost-bare tree.

Scorpius looked up as soon as he heard Albus coming, and put down his book. Albus read the title; _Defence Against the Dark Arts: A Practical Guide_ by Athena Merryweather. He had never heard of it.

"Can I talk to you?" Albus asked. Scorpius nodded, and smiled; two rows of perfectly white teeth came into view. He stood up, his book under his arm, and Albus immediately felt awkward – Scorpius was much shorter than him, the top of his head just level with Albus' chest. He glanced round, and saw Rose and Molly standing a short way back, talking. He caught Rose's eye, and she waved her arm in a gesture which said _Just do it!_

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Scorpius' voice came into Albus' hearing range, and he looked down at him. He noticed that the bruising on his face had almost completely disappeared, with only a little purplish shadow still visible around the bridge of his nose.

"I wanted to say sorry" Albus started, "for hitting you before. I didn't meant it, I just kind of –"

"Jumped to conclusions?" Scorpius finished his sentence for him, but there was no displeasure or malice in his face; in fact, he was grinning. He flicked his fringe out of his eyes and looked up at Albus.

"It doesn't matter, I would have been pretty mad if it was me. But what I said, I didn't meant it. Honestly. I was only saying that stuff because Esmeralda was there" he explained. "My parents might have put their prejudices behind them but her family – well, they haven't. Esmeralda doesn't want me to be friends with you, said it's a bad influence. But I didn't listen, and she got angry with me. So I said that stuff to convince her, to make it look like she'd persuaded me" he told Albus, who nodded to show that he understood. "And" Scorpius went on "I would like it a lot if we could be friends."

"Me too" Albus admitted. To his surprise, Scorpius had been extremely understanding; he had been half-expecting a grudge on his hands at least. Not being able to keep a straight face, he smiled back and Scorpius extended a hand, which Albus then shook as a sign of friendship.

"I think Rose wants us to go back to the library to finish off some homework. Want to come with us?" Albus offered.

"Okay" was the reply.

An hour later the four of them found themselves sitting at a table by the window, hidden out of the sight of the eagle-eyed librarian Madam Pince by a good three rows of bookshelves. They had since finished the work they had needed to do and the conversation had turned to their lives back home, outside of Hogwarts. Rose and Albus were busy explaining their extremely large family to the other two – which consisted of about a dozen aunts and uncles and almost three times as many cousins – when a tall, very pale girl with long black hair came up to their table and spoke to Scorpius.

"I have a message for you from Madam Hooch" the girl announced, flicking a long black strand of hair from her face.

"What is it?" Scorpius asked her.

"She has told me to tell you that you've made the Quidditch team. Seeker. Congratulations, Scorpius" the girl said. Albus' breathing stopped for a minute. Since when did Scorpius Malfoy try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team? Albus had watched their tryout from the window of Gryffindor Tower; he didn't recall spotting a small, slight figure amongst the older applicants. He gaped, wide-eyed, at Scorpius as he beamed with clear delight. The girl left, her dark hair fanning out behind her.

Molly turned to Albus.

"But aren't you the Gryffindor Seeker?" she asked him. It was Scorpius' turn to gawp.

"Yeah. I am. I didn't know you flew too!" he told Scorpius, who was sitting opposite him.

"Not very often, I don't. I can't, see, because it's too conspicuous. There isn't much land for me to fly in, only a small field at the back of our house. I have to keep a close eye out for planes and stuff" he explained. "But I do fly. Of course, I suppose flying comes naturally for you, being a Potter and all" he added. Albus' surprise at his knowledge must have shown on his face because Scorpius then said, "My dad told me", as if that would clear things up.

"Who was that girl, anyway?" Rose interjected, steering the two boys away from a conversation which would almost definitely involve broomsticks, a Quaffle and the Golden Snitch.

"Oh, that's just one of my cousins though we're only related by marriage. Her father is my uncle's – Esmeralda's dad – brother. A lot of families are related like that" Scorpius answered. Indeed, he was right; with his mother having so many brothers, it was not just the Potters and the Weasleys who were related; but a whole raft of other wizarding families that Albus was always forgetting the names of.

"I know what you mean" Albus replied. "My family's huge. Absolutely enormous, because my mum has five brothers, one of which is Rose's dad." Rose nodded her agreement.

"It can be quite confusing, keeping track of them all!" she laughed.


	11. Rivalry

_CHAPTER ELEVEN_

_Rivalry_

The next couple of weeks, for Albus, were exhausting. He had Quidditch practice almost every night, out on the pitch as late as was possible before it became too dark for him to see the Golden Snitch. Keeping up with homework was a struggle; many a time he had asked Rose for help, and many a time she had agreed only because he was her friend. Lessons became a bore, and Albus found himself fighting to keep his eyelids open. Once, much to Rose's displeasure, he had fallen asleep during Transfiguration and had received an earful from Professor McGonagall, along with costing Gryffindor house twenty-five points.

But, despite his overwhelming schedule and the demand of keeping to Hogwarts' standards in the work which he produced for his numerous professors, Albus found himself enjoying it. For once, he had not free time in which he would let himself wander aimlessly through the school corridors and out in the grounds, ignoring the pile of homework he had been set and staring towards the Quidditch pitch. He was even glad that Rose visited the library so frequently, as his essays mounted up before him and more and more textbooks needed to be read.

On Thursday afternoon, Albus was glad to be walking in the direction of the dungeons along with Rose and Molly. Potions was the only subject in which they had a little freedom, simply left to get on with things while the portly Horace Slughorn sat behind his desk marking OWL-students essays and eating crystallized pineapple from a large white box. This time, however, as they reached the door of the Potions classroom Professor Slughorn was waiting for them outside the door, his vast form dressed in deep indigo robes and thick moustache bristling above a beaming smile.

"Come in, come in! Lots to do today, I want to show you something!" he boomed as he waved in the throng of first-years, each looking slightly apprehensive. Potions was one of the few classes the Gryffindors did not share with the Slytherins, and instead a group of Ravenclaws filed past them through the door.

An aroma of steaming potions filled their noses as Albus, Rose and Molly took their seats over the far side of the dungeon classroom. Usually dark and dank, today the room was light by bright fires blazing beneath five large, cast iron cauldrons. Heat rose from each of them in waves, wafting their odd smells across the room. A few students peered into the cauldrons as they passed, their eyes wide. As soon as everyone was seated, Professor Slughorn shut the heavy door and bounced to the front of the classroom, facing the students.

"Good afternoon! I see you've noticed the cauldrons up here. Well, today will be a little different. Instead of the usual lesson, I've decided to set up an investigative task for you all." he took out his wand and pointed towards the blackboard behind his grey-haired head, and words appeared; _Investigating Unknown Potions_ "Instead of me telling you what these potions are, using the information I give you, _you_ are going to try and identify them yourselves."

There was a quizzical murmur amongst the students; Rose's brow furrowed, but she sat up a little straighter in her seat. Slughorn held up one broad hand for silence.

"Now, I want this done carefully. All of you get into groups of three" he announced "and _one_ of you open your textbooks." Albus, Rose and Molly immediately sat closer to each other; Rose had her copy of _A Guide to Common Potions and their Uses_ already open in front of her, and was avidly flicking through the pages. There was a loud shuffling and scraping of chairs as the rest of the class got into groups; nearest to them, Albus saw a group of dark-haired Ravenclaw girls with their heads together, deep in discussion. One of them looked up and gave Albus a shy smile, which he returned out of politeness. The girl turned pink and bowed her head.

"On page one hundred and eighty-seven, you will find a list of potions along with a brief description of its properties. Five of those listed are the ones in these cauldrons here" he pointed to them "whilst the rest are not relevant. Using the index at the back of your books and the notes on the page, your task is to find out which potions these are, and give me three good reasons why. Write your answers on a piece of parchment, along with your names, and bring them to me. I will correct them, and the group who identifies the most potions correctly will be awarded thirty points for their house. Understand? You may begin."

Slughorn edged behind his desk, and at once the class got up and clustered around the five steaming cauldrons. As they got closer, Albus noticed that each cauldron had a number on it; one, two, three, four and five, to make each substance easier to match with the correct potion. Albus looked into the first cauldron, on the far right. It was full of thick, bubbling liquid, its' colour a dull, mud brown. The waves of heat which rose from it gave off an unpleasant odour of damp earth, mouldy vegetables and rotten eggs. Taking a closer look, he studied the way in which the bubbles seem to rise to the surface from the depths of the cauldron, rather than form by the frothing of the liquid it contained. He knew this potion from somewhere, he was sure of it. He just couldn't think where.

"Albus, I've got one!" Rose whispered loudly from a few paces away, pointing at the cauldron in the middle. Its steam rose in hypnotising spirals, and as he edged his way through the clamour of students he thought he smelled new leather, freshly baked bread, and...was that jasmine flower? He couldn't be sure, but as he craned his neck to look over Rose's shoulder at the potion she had identified, the aroma intensified. The potion in this cauldron was different in colour; it had a light, pearly sheen, and seemed to be swirling in on itself, like a slow-moving whirlpool.

"What is it?" Albus whispered to his red-headed cousin. She turned to face him, quill in hand.

"It's Amortentia, the strongest love potion in the world" she whispered back, not wanting the other students to hear. "I just know it. See that pearly sheen its' got? And the way the steam is rising in spirals. _Amortentia is recognized by its' mother-of-pearl sheen, and the characteristic spirals of the steam which rises from it_" she quoted from _A Guide to Common Potions and their Uses_.

"Good! Write it down, quick, before we forget" Albus told her. Rose obeyed, and he watched as she wrote the answer down on the parchment she was propping on the open pages of the textbook. _3 – Amortentia_, in her small, neat script. A little way ahead, he spotted Molly, bending over the cauldron on the far left. Her brow was creased in concentration, her bottom lip protruding from beneath the top one. To Albus, her expression appeared rather comical.

By now, most of the class had managed to identify at least one of the potions; scanning the crowd of students quickly, he saw that a few of the Ravenclaw groups had managed to find three of the five presented to them. Molly waved Albus and Rose over to where she was standing. The cauldron she was peering in was full of smooth, golden liquid, rippling softly in the heat from the flames at its' base.

"Is it just me" Molly asked "or does that look a lot like-"

"Felix Felicis?" Albus finished for her, an eyebrow raised. He had recognized it straight away; the glassy surface of the potion, its' colour, and the way that no bubbles seemed to rise from it even though the fire beneath it was burning furiously. His father had told him about Felix Felicis when he was ten years old; he had seen the memory in his father's personal pensive.

Rose looked somewhat startled at Albus' knowledge of the potion, but consulted her open textbook for a second opinion. Molly and Albus waited whilst she read. After a few moments, she raised her head.

"Albus, you're right. It _is_ Felix Felicis. But how did you recognise it?" she asked him, clearly puzzled.

"Dad told me about it" he replied. Rose's eyebrows travelled a little way up her forehead, as if she didn't believe him.

"Right, shall we check out the others?" Molly interjected. The three of them moved away, and out of the corner of his eye, Albus saw Rose write down _Felix Felicis___next to the number '_5'_.

Twenty minutes later, and Professor Slughorn returned to the front of the classroom, a thick wad of parchment in one podgy hand. He was beaming, and he waved the class's answers in front of him as he spoke.

"Well done, well done! Glad to see you've all been making use of your books, at least. Almost all of you managed to identify at least three of the five, but" and now he turned in Albus, Rose and Molly's direction "only one group found all five potions. Congratulations" he paused "to Mr. Potter, Miss. Weasley and Miss Finnigan, who correctly identified them all! Well done, you three, thirty points for Gryffindor!" he applauded. Rose flushed with pleasure, and Molly looked just happy to have been mentioned.

"You see, they were the only ones who were able to recognise Felix Felicis, a handy little potion which brings the drinker twelve hours' worth of luck! Quite a rare produce, Felix Felicis, and like most potions it is dangerous when taken in extremely large doses. However, there will be more of that if and when you reach NEWT- level Potions" Slughorn explained "so for now, we will be returning to the first of the five you were asked to identify – Polyjuice Potion. Turn to page two hundred and forty three in your books, please, and read the following pages."

*

Hogwarts had changed. Overnight, enormous Gryffindor and Slytherin banners had appeared on the walls of the Great Hall, and the tension between the two houses had increased. This sudden turn in the behaviour of the students could only mean one thing; Quidditch season had begun.

For Albus, it meant work – hard work. He was out on the pitch with the rest of the team every night, chasing the tiny Snitch round and round until he was dizzy. Whilst the rest of the students were excited for the match, Albus just hoped he wouldn't fall off his broom. He most certainly did not want to do _that_ in front of the entire school, staff and students included. But he had no time for worry and fear; he had a match to play, and even though the whole of Gryffindor house were looking to him for a winning game, he couldn't help but feel excited too. His father's flying talent ran in his blood. It was in his genes. He needn't worry at all.


	12. The Lion vs The Snake

_CHAPTER TWELVE_

_The Lion vs. The Snake_

On the first Saturday of October, Albus reluctantly dragged himself out of his warm four-poster bed and into the waning autumn sunlight. His owl, Jemima, hooted reassuringly as he slowly dressed, nerves beginning to niggle at his insides. Today was important. He had to do well. Meeting Rose at the portrait hole, he was pale and drawn; there were bags under his eyes were he had gone to bed late after Quidditch practice, and his legs did not seem to want to carry him downstairs to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"You've got to eat something, Albus" Molly coaxed him at the Gryffindor table, looking concerned.

"Molly's right. You'll need all the strength you can get" Rose added. Albus simply shook his head.

"I'm not hungry" was his reply. Nerves were getting the better of him; the more he tried to push his fears to the back of his mind, the greater they became. Turning round, he stole a glance at Scorpius. He too looked pale and he too, like Albus, looked nervous.

"_Eat_ something, Albus. It'll do you good" Molly interjected.

"I don't want anything"

"Are you sure?" Rose asked.

"Yeah" Albus answered, looking straight ahead at the wall opposite him, where the scarlet and gold colours of Gryffindor house were blaring from a giant banner. Underneath, the words _Go Gryffindor Lions!_ had been painted yellow.

The chilly autumn wind blew as the team gathered in the changing rooms for a last-minute pep talk. Amanda Braithwaite had been named the team Captain after tryouts, and was now standing in front of the nervous team with confidence clear in her features.

"Right, I know this is the first game of the season" she told them "but don't worry, okay? If we play like we've been playing at practice, Slytherin don't stand a chance. Now who wants to win the Cup this year?" she yelled.

"We do!" came the shouts of the team. To Albus' left, the dark-haired Beater Jack Puckle swung his bat back and forth, flexing his arm in preparation. He found himself smiling despite the nerves eating away at him.

Professor McGonagall entered the changing rooms, her square spectacles residing on the end of her long nose.

"Assemble yourselves, everyone. The match is about to begin" she announced, and Albus' heart leaped into his throat. He got up with rest of the team and picked up his borrowed broomstick. Amanda flashed a grin at him from across the throng of scarlet-robed players, and his confidence was lifted slightly. His chin up, he marched out of the changing rooms and into the passageway which would take them to the Quidditch pitch, walking alongside Amanda. She was very tall compared to him, muscular yet slender. She gripped the handle of her Golden Comet tightly, as if she were worried it may fly away of its own accord. He could hear the excited cries and shouts of the crowd in the stands outside. Swallowing back his nerves as best he could, he straightened himself and looked straight ahead.

"Are you nervous?" Amanda whispered to him.

"Yes" he squeaked.

"Don't be. You'll be fine. Just focus on the Snitch, yeah?" she grinned. He nodded approvingly, and suddenly the whooping yells of the crowd became louder.

"It's time" Amanda announced. The seven-strong team mounted their brooms, and all worries left Albus as the gateway to the pitch opened and he shot up into the air to the cheers of the Gryffindors, the wind ruffling his untidy black hair and his robes flapping.

He glanced around. A few dozen feet below him, he saw Madam Hooch, standing next to the trunk which included four balls; the Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and the tiny Golden Snitch. It was this last ball that he needed to focus on. Her silver whistle glinted around her neck in the weak October sun.

There was another uproar from the opposite end of the pitch; the emerald-robed Slytherin team flew out into the sky. Albus recognised Scorpius immediately; he was easily the smallest, and youngest, person on the team, slight and blond-haired and gripping onto his own broom as if afraid he might slide off the end.

"Welcome to the first Quidditch game of the season!" there came an inexorable boom from Albus' end of the pitch, and he recognized the voice. He turned around and saw Fred Weasley – another of his many cousins, long and lanky and red-haired – speaking into a megaphone in the stand where the teachers sat.

"This game, Gryffindor takes on Slytherin, each hoping to win a place in the tournament which only one house can win. Who will be victorious? How many people will get hurt in the process? How much blood will be spilt? How much Quidditch fou-"

"Enough, Mr Weasley!" Professor McGonagall had wrestled the megaphone from Fred, much to the laughter of the spectators. "Good luck to both teams-"

"And try not get killed in the meantime...."

"MR. WEASLEY!"

"Oh alright, sorry. Just trying to make a joke, Professor"

"Now, Madam Hooch, will you do the honours?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Albus saw the hawk-like yet kind flying instructor nod, and then bend down to unlock the trunk.

"Now, I want a good game" she called up to the fourteen players above her "no fouls. No deliberate sabotage. No punching or kicking or biting. If anyone is caught in unfair play then their team must forfeit the match. Understood? Okay, then – _Relashio!_" She pointed her wand at the trunk.

"And the balls are released! First the two Bludgers, murder they are, try to stay away from those...and the Golden Snitch is second, worth one hundred and fifty points, remember the Seeker who catches the Snitch wins the game for their team. Last, the Quaffle, never been my favourite Quidditch ball I must say, probably because it doesn't have the ability to fly like the others, oh well....on with the game!" Fred's voice reverberated around the enormous pitch.

Madam Hooch blew her silver whistle, and the game began.

Albus took off, soaring in a circle high above the spectator's stands. He narrowed his eyes, peering carefully for a glitter of gold...

"And it's Braithwaite with the Quaffle! She passes to Stone, who passes to-oh no, Slytherin in possession!"

He groaned to himself. The Gryffindor crowd mirrored his feelings; there was an uproar of cheers from the enthusiastic Slytherins. Once again, Albus took off around the stadium, searching, keeping his eyes peeled for that telltale flash of papery wings....

He looked, and at the far end of the pitch, he saw Scorpius Malfoy, searching just as eagerly as he was, merely a green and silver blur, but easily recognizable even from this distance because of his blond hair. Fred Weasley's voice came over the megaphone again.

"The Quaffle back in Gryffindor possession! Stone-Braithwaite-back to Stone, he shoots – YES, HE SCORES! TEN POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR!"he bellowed. The crowd dressed in scarlet and gold cheered; there were a number of loud boos and hisses from the Slytherins on the green side. Albus momentarily enjoyed the success; and then, turned back to scouring the pitch for the all-important Golden Snitch. Wind whistles in his ears over the jeers and shouts of the crowd as he soared upward, and his heart skipped a beat as he dived out of the way just in time to avoid a low-lying Bludger.

But he couldn't see it anywhere; he strained his eyes, taking in every detail, every inch of the sky, of the pitch...but no. No Golden Snitch. He pulled his broom around to change direction, and soared off up the other end of the pitch. He heard a whoosh beneath him, and became aware that the Quaffle had just skimmed his toes as it was thrown between a pair of Chasers.

"_Braithwaite scores!_ TWENTY POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR!" Fred roared into the megaphone. _Yes! Twenty points! _Albus thought. Twenty-nil. Perfect. Now, where was that Snitch? It was hard to concentrate when the enthusiasm of the crowd and the excitement of the game were so catching. But no, he had to get that Snitch. The rest of the Gryffindor team were counting on him.

"And Slytherin back in possession, captain Avery passes the Quaffle to – oho, but Amanda Braithwaite catches it, that's the spirit, Gryffindor in possession, Braithwaite passes to Stone, he shoots....SCORE! GRYFFINDOR THIRTY, SLYTHERIN NIL! _YES!_ TAKE THAT, SLYTHERIN!"Albus, who had done several loop-the-loops in celebration, almost missed the glitter of gold to his right. Realising at once what it was, he turned sharply and sped off, wind whistling in his ears, his eyes focused on the Golden Snitch now racing ahead in front of him. He stole a glance to his left, and saw a blur of silver and green streak in his direction; Scorpius had spotted the Snitch too. He accelerated, taking a tight hairpin bend upwards as the Snitch remained elusive, always just out of his reach. He could hear the whooshing of his opponent's broom now, telling him that Scorpius was gaining on him.

"Ah, finally, Slytherin score!" yelled Fred into the megaphone some way behind Albus. "Too bad for Gryffindor's Keeper, too bad, but still, we're in the lead, jolly good!" But Albus was only half-listenning. Speeding even faster, he was getting close...he could see the glimmering golden wings fluttering madly....Scorpius was no more than a foot behind him....he could almost reach it....and then he had to swerve dangerously as a Bludger aimed for his head, spinning on his broomstick. He quickly refocused, staring, peering...and there it was! He streaked through the air, a blur of scarlet and gold, and Scorpius was nowhere to be seen.

"And it looks like Albus Potter's seen the Golden Snitch!" Fred's excited voice boomed across the pitch. "Always told him he was good flyer, very good in fact, no wonder he made the team, and...oh no, Malfoy's spotted it too! Damn, Albus, you'll have to speed up a bit, he's pretty fast..." And at Fred's words, Albus didn't need telling twice. Once again, he sped off, keeping the Snitch in his line of sight, faster, faster....he reached out, grasping at thing air, until he could feel the wings beating against his knuckles...he swooped, and the tiny Golden Snitch was struggling in his fingers, and he was flying back towards the ground, and Fred announced over the megaphone "POTTER'S GOT THE SNITCH! WE WIN! GRYFFINDOR WIN! THIRTY-TEN TO GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR _WIN!_"

Albus could barely believe his own luck. The first match of the season, and he had won it! _Him!_ The Venomous Tentacula might have bitten him in his very first Herbology lesson, he might have broken his arm during his very first Quidditch practice, and he'd punched Scorpius Malfoy on the nose the second time he'd ever met him – so he was, in any case, irrational and a definite danger magnet – but when it came to flying, to catching the tiny winged ball now clutched in his glove, it didn't matter that he was clumsy or that he didn't concentrate much in lessons, and that Rose kept nagging him to study harder...because he was finally living up to his name as the youngest son of Harry Potter, and he was on top of the world.

When he returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, pink-faced and beaming, Molly Finnigan was the first to congratulate him. She flung her arms around him in an enormous hug, and when she pulled away, she could only gabble "Well done, Albus!" before disappearing into the squashiest armchair. He didn't have time to be startled, however; most his family had just appeared in the Common Room. Fred was there, and Roxy, his sister, both tanned and smiling broadly; Victoire, with her long blonde hair and bright blue eyes; Molly, her neatly curly hair bouncing on her shoulders; Lucy, red-haired and giggly; Dominique, short, and blonde like her sister, but with a mischievous glint in her brown eyes; Rose, her wild flaming curls askew; and finally (Albus was surprised he'd even shown up) James, his jet-black hair untidy and all over the place, just like Albus'. He'd barely opened his mouth to speak when Fred called out over the small army of Weasleys (and one Potter) –

"That was brilliant Albus!"

"Amazing!" agreed Lucy.

"Superb save, I've never seen anything like it!" cried Dominique.

"Dad'll be beside himself when he finds out..." James nodded enthusiastically. Albus had no idea what to say to any of them, so instead he just gawped, his mouth hanging open like a goldfish.

He should have known it was too good to last. As soon as his various cousins had drifted off to play wizard's chess, a game of Exploding Snap, catch up on homework – or, in Fred's case, gone off to plot how best to blow up a toilet, or else ordering a batch of the newest products from Weasley's Wizard's Wheezes - James appeared suddenly in the seat next to him on the sofa, grinning madly. Albus knew that expression all too well.

"Good game, wasn't it?" he asked him.

"Yeah. I still can't believe I caught it!" Albus replied. "It was awesome, James, you have no idea...why are you smiling like that?" He had noticed his brother was beaming too widely, the sparkle in his eyes – like his mother's – a little too suspicious. Albus' brow furrowed.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know, Albus!" he declared happily. Albus immediately became stern.

"What did you do?" he demanded. "If it's another detention, Mum will kill you when we go home for Christmas" He thought of the expression on his mother's face if James came home for the holidays with a letter from McGonagall, saying he'd misbehaved one time too many, and shuddered.

"Nothing" James said – but there was an evil sort of glint in his eye.

"James!" Albus whined. "What did you do?" His brother cackled. There was an ominous pause, and then –

"Was it easy for you to catch the Snitch, then?" James asked.

"I suppose, yeah...I mean, I was going pretty fast...why do you want to know that?" Albus said.

"Would you say it was...too easy?" James pressed.

"Not really" replied Albus. He had no idea what his brother was getting at. James' expression fell.

"So you didn't think that Scorpius wasn't, how can I put this – _not really concentrating_?" James emphasized the last three words. Albus still didn't get it. He saw his brother's mischievous grin, and racked his brains for anything in his face that would help him figure it out. There was nothing.

"Oh, come on Albus, you're meant to be clever!" taunted James. "You are in Gryffindor after all, and Gryffindors are usually the ones who work everything out in the end. Dad did, anyway, what with all the stuff _he_ did when he was at school here" James prattled. "Or maybe you should have been in _Slytherin_" he whispered ominously. Albus fumed. Outside, the sun poured in through the windows and beat down on his face, bathing the Common Room in warm light.

"I _wasn't_ supposed to be in Slytherin, so just shut up, alright?" Albus shouted. He had stood up without realising it, James' laughing face beneath him from where he sat.

"Touchy" muttered James, his brow scowling. But he quickly composed himself, and said all too cheerily, "So you don't think there was anything wrong with Malfoy?" James pressed again.

"_Scorpius_" Albus corrected. "And no, I don't." James gave a large sigh.

"Shame. I thought Confunding him would help" he said casually. Wait a minute – what had James said?

"You _Confunded_ him?!" Albus shrieked indignantly, his eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn't believe his ears. Had he heard right? Had his brother really Confunded Scorpius Malfoy?

"I only wanted to help!" James defended himself quickly. "There's nothing written down that says I can't do it, and anyway, it wasn't like I was _hurting_ him. Though I wish I could, him and his stupid cousin _Esmeralda_" he said savagely. Albus passed a hand over his face, outraged. He had endured summer after summer of James taunting him, playing pranks on him, teasing him, and he'd taken it on the chin because James was his brother, and deep down, he supposed he _did_ love him, even if he was excruciatingly annoying and an enormous pain in the backside. But going after his friends was just ridiculous!

"You shouldn't have done that!" Albus hissed at him. "That's like cheating! It's sabotage!"

"It didn't do _you_ any harm, did it? You still caught the Snitch, didn't you? Gryffindor still won, didn't they?" James asked.

"Well, yeah, but that's not the point! You shouldn't have Confunded Scorpius and you know it!" Albus snapped. James's grin faded from his face.

"It was only a bit of fun" he muttered crossly, jumping up from the sofa and brushing down his robes. "You can be exactly like mum sometimes, Al." And with that, he stomped off sulkily to his dormitory, leaving Albus standing there alone, torn between telling someone the truth – Professor McGonagall, or Madame Hooch maybe – and saving his brother's skin by keeping his little trick a secret.


	13. The Mirror of Erised

_**A/N: Sorry for the ENORMOUS wait for an update, I've been swamped with schoolwork and coursework and revision and everything else! But alas, here it is - chapter thirteen, in which Albus and Scorpius do a bit of night-time sneaking around with help from Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. Enjoy!**_

_***_

_CHAPTER THIRTEEN_

_The Mirror of Erised_

All week, Albus found it difficult to look Scorpius in the eye knowing what his brother had done. He felt somehow guilty, that he hadn't given his friend a fair chance at winning the game – that he'd been given an unfair disadvantage because James had Confunded him. He toyed with telling him, and Rose, but decided against it time and time again. He thought it best for their friendship, James' reputation and Rose's wrath that he keep it quiet.

The Sunday after the match, Albus, Rose and Scorpius decided to visit Hagrid in his hut; Molly was in the library catching up with a Transfiguration essay the others had already completed. Albus was certain he would want to know all about his first months at Hogwarts, and Rose and Scorpius agreed to go with him. A chilly October wind whipped their faces and hair as they made their way down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where Hagrid's hut sat. Their footsteps crunched on the frosty ground, and the surface of the great Black Lake rippled in the breeze.

As they drew nearer, they heard loud excited barking coming from inside the wooden house. No sooner had Albus knocked on the roughly hewn door than it opened, revealing the bedraggled Hogwarts gamekeeper. A wide grin appeared beneath the mass of tangled black hair as soon as he spotted Albus standing on his front porch – if you could call it that.

"Hi Hagrid" said Albus.

"Albus, yeh came! I've bin waitin' for yer visit. And Rose too! Come in, come in, don' want yer to catch cold now, do we?"

The three of them crossed the tiny threshold into Hagrid's cabin. It was just the same as it always had been; cramped, with just the one room, an enormous mattress on the floor in the corner and a rickety table in the middle, with four chairs around it. Hagrid's old pink umbrella was propped up against one of the cupboards, and its' feet lay Hagrid's aged, drooling boarhound Fang. Rose was the first to take a seat; Albus and Scorpius followed her. The latter seemed utterly amazed by the gamekeeper, and was watching him with amused interest as he dragged a huge armchair towards the table and plonked himself down in it.

"How's school treatin' yeh, then?" Hagrid asked them, his black beetle eyes glittering.

"It's brilliant. Just like my dad said it would be" Albus replied.

"Rose is top of the class in everything, obviously" Scorpius added, causing Rose to turn an alarming salmon pink. Hagrid turned to him, as if he'd just realised he was even there. His black eyes studied Scorpius carefully.

"Yer never Malfoy's son?" Hagrid asked him. Scorpius nodded, turning slightly pink also. Hagrid's massive bushy eyebrows rose.

"Oh, well, he did alright in the end, yer father, after having a bit o' trouble in his time. Even got a letter from him, once, to say sorry fer tryin' ter get me sacked in his third year." Albus' and Scorpius' eyes bulged with incredulity.

"I shouldn't 'ave told yer that" Hagrid said, fearing he'd said too much. Scorpius, however, was suddenly interested.

"What happened?" he asked Hagrid, whose face turned ruddy beneath his shaggy beard.

"I don't think yer father will appreciated me telling yer that, Scorpius" Hagrid answered, shaking his head. "If he'd 'ave wanted yer to know, he would 'ave told yer by now." But Albus, Rose and Scorpius weren't satisfied with Hagrid's response. All three were staring at him.

"There's nothin' to tell!" Hagrid said, seeing the expressions on their faces. "Really, it was nothin'. Just a hippogriff I 'ad got a bit carried away, that's all. No lastin' 'arm was done"

"Hagrid, you had a _hippogriff_?" Rose exclaimed. "But they're really difficult to train! I read about them in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, it says it's not easy at all to domesticate them, because they're so proud"

"Ah, yer sound just like yer mother" Hagrid said sadly, shaking his bushy beard again. "Put a fair bit of 'elp my way, she did. And yer father, Albus" He felt himself go red when Hagrid mentioned him. "A great man, yer father. Known him since he was yer age."

Neither of them knew what to say. Scorpius was still thrown by Hagrid's revelation, and was looking rather put out as he scratched behind Fang's ears, who had come lolloping over when they'd sat down.

"So I hear yer made yer house Quidditch team, Albus" Hagrid suddenly interjected. Albus had the strong feeling that he was eager to change the subject, but tuned in all the while.

"Yeah, I'm the Seeker, like my dad" he replied.

"Yer a damn good one too, from what I've heard" Hagrid told him. "Professor McGonagall was just down here the other day, checking on the 'Alloween pumpkins, and she was full o' praise for you". For the second time, Albus turned red. The very idea that Professor McGonagall – strict, stern Professor McGonagall, who was all too fond of setting them bi-weekly essays for homework – had praised him was almost unbelievable. Even Scorpius looked up from petting Fang to gawp at him.

"Yer like animals?" Hagrid asked Scorpius.

"Yeah, I've always wanted a pet. I've been asking for a cat for ages, but mum won't let me have one because she's allergic to them, or so she says. Dad reckons I'm not allowed one because she's secretly afraid of them" he said. "Is Fang a St. Bernard cross Boarhound?" he asked.

"Yeah, he is. How did yer know?" Hagrid sounded amazed. He was staring at Scorpius.

"He's about the same build as a Bernard, but the features are definitely a breed of boarhound, Scottish I think. Where did you get him from?"

"Ah, I dunno, I got him when he was only a little puppy, just found him on his own when I was searching the forest. Looked like his mother 'ad left him there. He's afraid of everythin', mind you. Right bloody coward, that dog".

"He's great" Scorpius said simply. Hagrid positively beamed. The only student Albus knew to be as into animals as Scorpius was his own Uncle Charlie, who lived abroad in Romania, working with dragons.

"We'd better get back, you two, or we'll miss lunch" Rose said, getting up from her chair. "It was great seeing you, Hagrid." Albus and Scorpius got up too, though the latter seemed a little upset at having to leave Fang behind.

"We'll come and visit again, when we've got time" Albus told him. "Me and Scorpius have got Quidditch practice all next week, but Rose'll have plenty of time"

"If she's not too busy studying" Scorpius laughed.

"Hey! I don't study _all_ the time!" Rose put in. Albus and Scorpius just looked at each other.

"Look after yerselves now" Hagrid called as they left the tiny cabin, making their way back across the grounds to the castle. The wind had picked up, and was fiercer now. They pulled their cloaks tighter around themselves, and dug their hands in their pockets.

"What d'you think my dad did to try and get Hagrid sacked?" Scorpius asked the other two.

"No idea. It can't have worked, though, because he didn't get sacked" Albus said.

"We can always look at old records of accidents and see if there's anything in there" Rose said. "If you really want to know what happened".

"Yeah, if I ever want detention for a lifetime" Scorpius said. "What if McGonagall or Filch catches me rooting around school files? I'd probably get expelled. Not that it would matter, because dad would kill me first."

"Why would your dad kill you?" Albus enquired.

"He's the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, one of the richest wizards in our world and every time I mention anything to do with his time at Hogwarts he pretends to be deaf until I change the subject. He always goes all funny if I talk about the War or anything like that, so I don't think he'll be very happy if he knows I've been trying to dig up his past in old school records" Scorpius explained.

"My dad gets like that sometimes" Albus agreed. "He doesn't like to mention the War, either".

They were at the giant oak front doors now; they creaked loudly as Albus pushed them open. They were met in the Entrance Hall by Mrs. Norris, the dust-coloured, bad-tempered cat owned by the Hogwarts caretaker.

"Go away!" Rose hissed at the cat. "We're not doing anything wrong!"

"Not yet, anyway" Scorpius muttered in Albus' ear. Mrs. Norris gave a small mew, before turning on her old paws and streaking off, tail held aloft. They shrugged off their scarves and cloaks as they rounded the corner, heading for the library; they planned to meet up with Molly before returning to the Great Hall for lunch. But they needn't have bothered; two voices drifted down from the first floor to meet them.

"I'm telling you, I didn't do anything to your damn cat!" they heard Molly protest.

"Don't you lie, Finnigan! Don't you think I don't know what you think of me, the stupid-stupid- _Squib_!" screeched Argus Filch. "I'll put you in detention for this, young lady, this is animal abuse! Just watch me! I'll have Professor McGonagall investigate this, don't you worry!" and then they heard Filch storming off up the corridor, and Molly cursed loudly in his wake. Albus, Rose and Scorpius jumped up the flight of stairs to meet her.

"Before you say anything, I didn't _do_ anything; he just started raving on at me about hurting his stupid cat" Molly snapped. "Come on, I'm starving, that essay took me ages and I _still_ haven't finished."

They ate in almost silence. Albus was still thinking over what Scorpius had said, about looking through school records for information about his father. Albus knew how he felt; not knowing about your parents' past was frustrating, especially if one of them was The Boy Who Lived. Yet, Albus and his siblings knew hardly anything about those last years before Lord Voldemort, the Darkest wizard of all time, was defeated once and for all. Perhaps the answer lay in his father's old school files? Surely they kept pupil records somewhere; personal information, behaviour, grades, that kind of thing. But where to find them?

When the bell to signify the end of lunch tolled, Albus and Scorpius broke off from Rose and Molly.

"What are we going to do?" Scorpius asked him.

"Get some answers, hopefully" Albus replied.

Rose and Molly were going to the library, as Rose had grudgingly agreed to help her finished her Transfiguration essay. Instead, the two boys headed up to the seventh floor, where all the old files and records were kept. The only problem was, it was right next to Filch's new office, and the only way to get there was by passing directly by the staff room.

"But what if we get caught?" Scorpius asked.

"We won't, because I've got _this_" Albus pulled out an old, worn piece of parchment from inside his robes. Scorpius looked confused.

"What are we going to do with that?" he said.

"You'll see" was Albus' only reply.

Pulling him behind a large statue of a severely humpbacked old hag, he took out his wand, tapped the parchment with it and said; _"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good"_. The map sprung into life immediately, and Albus quickly unfolded it to see which was the best route to take up to the seventh floor.

"Who are Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?" Scorpius whispered; he'd been reading the front of the map.

"Prongs was my grandfather, James; Padfoot was his best friend and my dad's godfather Sirius; Moony was a werewolf who used to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts here; and Wormtail was their friend, who turned out to be a lying Death Eater who sold my grandparents to Voldemort".

"Wow" Scorpius breathed. "They _made_ this?"

"It's helped my dad in a lot of sticky situations, apparently. And it's going to help us get what we want now. So we'd better get a move on, Filch is coming this way".

They ducked out from behind the statue and headed off in the direction that Albus pointed to on the map, careful to avoid any teachers or students that would surely ask them awkward questions about why they were sneaking around instead of in their dormitories. They had to hide behind a chipped stone pillar when Professor Slughorn came down the corridor, on his way to the Potions storeroom above the dungeons; and only came out when he had turned away up the next flight of stairs. They almost walked headlong into the Ravenclaw Prefect Isobel Quirke, and it was only quick-thinking on Scorpius' part that got them out of ten points docked from each of their houses for dawdling in the corridors. Out of breath, Albus and Scorpius finally got to the seventh floor, and, checking the cost was clear by looking at the map, they crept along the corridor to the large door marked 'CONFIDENTIAL'.

First, Albus tried to open it by hand by turning the handle. It was locked. He twisted the handle the other way. It was still locked. If only he could remember the unlocking spell. He was sure he'd read it somewhere, heard of it, but it just wouldn't come to his mind...where was Rose when you needed her?

"Let me try" Scorpius whispered, taking his wand out from his robes and pointing it at the lock on the door. He quickly glanced around – checking for teachers or Prefects – and then said "Alohomora!" The door clicked open at once, and both boys beamed. They had done it! All they needed to do know was go in, and search for the right files. Their hearts in their mouths, Scorpius slowly pushed open the door. The creaking hinges startled them, and they froze; but no, not even Mrs. Norris was coming their way.

The room was decorated in the same way as any other storeroom in the castle; wood-panelled walls, high ceiling, and shelves upon shelves of stacked boxes full of student files. These shelves covered the room from floor to ceiling on all four walls; there must have been three hundred, or possibly four or five hundred boxes of files in here. Albus' hopes were dashed. How could they search through them all and find what they wanted without risking a teacher finding them? It would take them ages.

"Where d'you suppose we start?" Scorpius asked.

"They must be sorted alphabetically, so if 'A' is over here...." Albus walked over to the shelf of boxes to the right of the door "it must go round the room, so the files we want will be somewhere in the middle, 'P' for Potter and 'M' for Malfoy" Albus explained.

"Right" Scorpius replied. Albus' palms sweated. What if they couldn't find the right files? What if the files had been thrown out? It had, after all, been nearly twenty years since their fathers had been students here...perhaps their information wasn't on record anymore.

Nonetheless, Albus went over to the back wall and started looking immediately, his heart in his mouth the whole time. What if he _did_ find his father's records? What would he find – what if it was something bad? He peered closely at the letters on the boxes...L...M...N...O...P....P...Potter. He'd found it. His stomach knotted, though he couldn't think why. He quickly pulled out the box and rifled through, looking for his father's name...and yes, there it was – Potter, Harry. He heard frantic ruffling next to him, and he knew that Scorpius had found his own father's file in the 'M' box. Excited yet slightly nervous, he pulled out the file; it was rather thick, and the parchment had curled over at the edges. Well, it had been here almost twenty years.

He took it over to a chair propped against one of the shelves and flipped it open, his heart hammering. The file was divided into sections; _Personal Details_; _Academic Records_; _Crimes_; and _Accomplishments_. Not interested in his father's personal information, he flipped to the section headed 'Crimes', not really sure what he would find there. What kind of crime would his father have committed whilst he was at school here? There were subheadings, in years – 1991, 1992, 1993, 1994, 1995, and 1996. There wasn't a subheading for 1997, what would have been his father's final year at Hogwarts. Eager to find out more, he went to 1991 – the year his father started Hogwarts - and saw that there were four things written down.

_1991:_

_Crime – Flying without permission when he had been strictly forbidden to do so._

_Punishment – Unpunished, as crime was not serious enough._

_Crime – Tackling a fully-grown mountain troll after disobeying strict instructions to return to the house dormitory._

_Punishment – Ten points taken from Gryffindor house._

_Crime – Being out of bed after hours along with Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy._

_Punishment – Single detention in the Forbidden Forest with Rubeus Hagrid._

_Crime – Entering the forbidden third-floor corridor without strict permission from a teacher._

_Punishment – Unpunished (see Accomplishments)_

Albus could scarcely believe his eyes. Tackling a fully-grown mountain troll? In his first year? Disobeying instructions? This didn't sound like his father – or did it? He wasn't sure. He decided to skip a few years, seeing that the records for 1992, 1993 and 1994 were rather scarce, and instead went to the file headed 1995. What he saw almost made him fall off his chair:

_1995:_

_Crime – Verbal abuse of a professor, including shouting at them and accusing them of lying._

_Punishment – Detention for a month under the supervision of said professor._

_Crime – Second account of verbal abuse of a professor, including accusations of lying at and shouting at them._

_Punishment – An extra fortnight of detentions under the supervision of said professor._

Albus didn't think it could get any worse. To think that his father had actually shouted at a teacher, and accused them of lying, was incredulous. Had his father really done those things? His father, Head of the Auror Office, The Boy Who Lived? His heart drummed against his chest. There were two other crimes written underneath.

_Crime – Secondary physical assault of one Draco Malfoy._

_Punishment – Lifelong ban from the Gryffindor Quidditch team for unprovoked foul play. _

_Crime – Unauthorised access to the office of a member of staff, with intent to use the Floo Network to contact person or persons unknown._

_Punishment – Twenty points taken from Gryffindor House._

It wasn't the latter that bothered him; it was the account of physical assault that bothered him, as was the shock of reading Scorpius' father's name. He'd been banned from the house team for it. Yes, it was true, his father had rather a short temper at times, but he couldn't believe he'd actually attacked another student.

"Albus, your dad's name is in here" Scorpius called to him. "A lot, actually". Albus put his father's file on the chair and rushed over to where Scorpius was standing. He had the file open on his knee at the years 1991 and 1994. "Look at this – _caught out of bed after hours along with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom_. And again, in 1994, _use of the Deusangeo Hex upon Hermione Granger, but with intent to use said hex upon Harry Potter_. This, too – _wrongful use of the spell _Serpensortia_ against Harry Potter_. It doesn't sound like they liked each other much, does it?"

"Hang on; I'll get my dad's file. Your dad's name's in that, too" Albus dashed over to the chair and picked up the file, showing Scorpius the year 1995. "_Secondary physical assault of one Draco Malfoy_" he read aloud. "_Punishment - Lifelong ban from the Gryffindor Quidditch team for unprovoked foul play_. If that doesn't say they didn't like each other I don't know what does." Both boys were confused again. Their fathers had hated each other, a lot. Enemies, in fact. But why? What had made Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy hate each other so much? Why had they reconciled their differences now? In fact, the last time Scorpius' parents had visited his house – when the Order of the Phoenix met – they had talked as if they were friends, or close to being friends anyway.

Suddenly, they heard footsteps outside in the corridor. They jumped up, snapping the files shut and ramming them back in their boxes as quickly as they could. Albus reached for the map, which he had left next to the chair, and muttered _"Mischief managed!" _The map became blank, and the two boys raced outside, shutting the door behind them and trying their best to not look like two first year students who had just hacked into school files.

They turned in the opposite direction, and came face to face with Professor McGonagall herself.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing?" Professor McGonagall asked them.

"We were just...going to the library" Albus said quickly. Scorpius nodded.

"The library?" the Transfiguration professor probed.

"Yes, professor" Scorpius said.

"And you decided to take the long way around, did you? Run along, you two, before I change my mind about taking points from your houses for dawdling" Professor McGonagall looked at the pair above her square spectacles. When she left, Albus and Scorpius breathed sighs of relief.

"That was close" Albus said. "And a bit pointless. We haven't found out anything, I'm just a lot more curious than I was before"

"I want to know why my dad hated your dad so much when they were at school" Scorpius told him.

"We can't go back there now, we'll have to have another look some other time" Albus explained. "We should go and find Rose and Molly; they're probably looking for us"

Later that evening, Albus told Rose and Molly what he'd found out about his father.

"Are you sure?" Rose asked. "Are you _really_ sure uncle Harry hated him?"

"I'm pretty sure. Scorpius thinks so too. It was a bit hard not to, what with all the records of them getting into trouble for trying to hex each other and stuff."

"Why, though? I mean, yeah, Scorpius' dad was in Slytherin and uncle Harry was in Gryffindor, but that's no excuse to hate each other, is it?"

"Not really" Albus had to admit.

"And you don't have any idea why?" Molly interjected.

"No." There was a pause, in which the fire crackled in the grate and threw dark shadows across the crimson walls of the common room. All three seemed to be thinking hard about what had been said, particularly Albus. But did he really want to know why their fathers' had hated each other?

"Dad did say something though" Rose suddenly announced. "He told me that Scorpius' dad wasn't very nice when he was school. His exact words were 'a bit of a git', actually". This did not help. Albus stared into the flames, as if searching for answers in them. It was quiet in the common room, which was unusual; most of the inhabitants of Gryffindor Tower were either in the library, reading in a corner or else had gone up to their dormitories for some privacy.

"Me and Scorpius are going to back to those stores" Albus said. "Tonight". Rose's mouth gaped open.

"You can't go back! What if you're caught? What if Filch sees you?" she exclaimed.

"We won't, because he won't. I've got the map, I'll take it with me" Albus explained.

"I knew giving you that map was a bad idea" Rose mumbled.

"Dad trusted me with it. You think he would have given it to me if he thought I was just going to use it to cause havoc?" Albus asked her. When she gave no answer, he replied, "Exactly. Because that's James, not me. If anyone shouldn't have this map, it's him".

***

"_I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good"_ Albus whispered, tapping the Maurauder's Map with his wand. Slowly, not daring to wake any of his fellow Gryffindors, he slipped out of bed and pulled on a jumper and jeans over his pyjamas, shoving his feet into his trainers. His watch read ten minutes to eleven. He was meeting Scorpius at the bottom of the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower at eleven o'clock. He had enough time. He tiptoed out of the dormitory, down the stairs and into the common room. It was deserted; no one was around. The less people who saw him, the better. The last thing he wanted was to be caught by Filch, Mrs. Norris, or worse; Professor McGonagall. If they were found, it would most certainly mean detention and precious house points docked.

As planned, Scorpius was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. Using the map as a guide, they slipped down the corridor and up two flights of stairs, keeping to the shadows of statues and suits of armour to avoid being seen. They had a narrow escape on the third floor; Mrs. Norris was heading their way, and only when they dived round the corner and hid behind a tapestry of Herpo the Foul did they manage to get away from her. Panting, their hearts hammering, they reached the fourth floor corridor without trouble. But then Albus looked at the map again, and his breath caught in his throat. Professor McGonagall was heading straight for them.

Wheeling around, they ran up corridor as fast as they could, hoping that their footsteps wouldn't attract the Headmistress to them. They saw a door up ahead, and praying it was unlocked, Albus yanked the door handle. It opened, thankfully, and he and Scorpius darted inside. Albus checked the map again. The tiny dot labelled 'Prof. McGonagall' was disappearing down the corridor and out of sight around corner.

"How is it McGonagall's around whenever anything untoward happens?" Scorpius gasped, out of breath from running.

"No idea" came Albus' answer. "Where are we, anyway?" He looked around. They seemed to be in an old classroom. A number of old desks were piled up along one wall, and several more bookcases filled with books lined another. The tapestries on the walls depicted animals, objects and even humans in various states of transformation. It must have been a Transfiguration classroom.

But there was something out of the ordinary in this room. In the middle of it, so out of place it looked almost deliberate, was an enormous full-length gilt mirror, held upright by two forked stands in the shape of claws. Albus, instinctively curious, walked over to it. The frame around the mirror was intricately carved and burnished in delicate gold leaf. Across the top, in minute letters, was written the words _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. He had no idea what they meant.

"What's that?" Scorpius called.

"Dunno, some kind of mirror" replied Albus. He ran his hand over the smooth surface of the mirror, and then stood right in front of it. His own reflection looked back at him. He looked the same as he always did; jet black hair that was always untidy whatever he did to it, bright green eyes, reasonably tall for his age, yet lanky with it which made him look undernourished. There was nothing out of the ordinary about this mirror. It was just like any other mirror he'd come across.

But then the reflection in the mirror changed. He was no longer alone; standing behind his reflection were two people he recognized to be his parents. His father, an older version of Albus, stood to his left; on his right, his mother, whose brown eyes James had inherited. And behind them, several more people Albus had never met nor able to recognize – apart from two of them. Behind his father stood two people he knew even though he'd never met them, or even seen them; the man could have been a clone of his father, and the woman had Albus' emerald eyes. He knew these people to be Lily and James Potter, his father's parents. They'd been killed when his father was only one year old, and he never knew them. He had no idea why he was seeing these things. What did this mirror show? A person's unknown family? Albus had always wanted to know who his family was, where he had come from...his father rarely spoke of his parents, and only in admiration when he did. Of course, he knew his grandparents on his mother's side, for he was rarely out of their company when his mum and dad were busy working late at the Ministry of Magic and the wizarding hospital, St. Mungo's. But what about his father's family? What did he know about them? Almost nothing.

He was so wrapped up in what he was seeing, he didn't notice Scorpius standing behind him.

"What does it do?" he asked Albus. He tore his eyes away from the images of his long gone family to answer his friend.

"I don't know. But I saw my dad's parents...my grandparents. I never knew them, because they were killed when my dad was really little. He never knew them either." Scorpius' eyes widened.

"Maybe that's what it does" Scorpius said. "Show you the family you never knew"

"But that doesn't make sense" Albus disagreed. "Does it?" Both boys looked at each other, then at the mirror. Scorpius' eyes strayed to the writing at the top of the mirror.

"_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi"_ he read. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure, it looks like it's in a foreign language" Albus explained. Then he checked his watch. It was quarter to midnight.

"Come on, we'd better go back. It's too late to look for those records now and if McGonagall comes back this way we're done for" Albus said.

When he had returned to the dormitory, Albus lay awake for a long time, staring up at the hangings around his bed. He couldn't get the image of his dead grandparents out of his mind. One thing was for sure; he would have to find out what _erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_ meant, on top of finding out what he wanted to know about his father.

**_A/N: Loved it? Hated it? Not sure? Whatever, just review it! You know you want to...and I rely on you guys to make my day! I promise to have a new chapter up if I get 5 reviews! HPfangirl4life xx_**


	14. The Golden Griffin

**_A/N: Yes, it's been a long wait, but it took me a while to work out where the plot was going to go for this chapter, and I've also been outlining the plot for the sequel to this story, _Albus Potter and the Sword of Godric Gryffindor_. You guessed right - this is going to be a seven-part series just like the original Harry Potter books, one for each of Albus' Hogwarts years. I've already got the plot for books two and four, and roughly book five, but nothing in between yet. Anyway, more of that later, and on with the story! Here's chapter fourteen. Enjoy!_**

_******_

_CHAPTER FOURTEEN_

_The Golden Griffin_

In light of their newly-discovered information, Albus and Scorpius spent much of the next two weeks talking with their heads together, discussing what Albus had seen in the strange mirror and whether or not their fathers really had hated each other when they were at school. Scorpius even dared go back to the store room where the student files were kept, but he was caught by Filch and Mrs. Norris and was given two weeks' detention. Albus never went back to the mirror, but he wanted to; once or twice he opened out the Marauder's Map and set off, only to turn back again.

Their lessons were slowly starting to end for the half-term; they weren't getting as much homework and the teachers didn't ask so much of them in their lessons. Even Professor McGonagall, with her stern expression and square spectacles, refrained from giving the first-years their usual weekly essays on Transfiguration theory, which was a relief to all but Rose, who complained loudly a few days before the end of term; "It's not fair, their stopping us from learning really important stuff!" Albus and Molly chose to ignore her whenever she expressed such feelings.

Albus was almost sad to be going home for Christmas; to him, Hogwarts was the kind of place that you could spend a hundred years in and not explore every nook and cranny of it. But he knew that his parents would be glad to have him home and hear all about his first few months of wizard training. Anyway, he had a few questions he wanted to ask his dad and he didn't feel that through a letter was the best way to do it. He wanted to ask him face to face, to be sure that he wasn't keeping anything from him. When he told this to Scorpius, he enthusiastically agreed with him.

"I was going to do the same with my dad" he explained. "And just hope he'll be a bit more flexible when I mention it, though I won't say how I found out about all that stuff about him hating your dad, because he won't like it if he knows I broke school rules".

Most of the weekend was spent packing away school robes, books, his Potions kit and cauldron, and other things he'd brought with him to Hogwarts. He hadn't mastered the knack of a charm Professor Flitwick had tried to teach them that made things tidy and in order, so most of his things were stuffed in randomly in his trunk, until Rose saw it and used a Levitating Charm to put everything in order. Packing away his things gave him a sense of loss, like something was slipping away. He wanted to see his parents, and Lily, and all his aunts and uncles and Teddy; but at the same time, he didn't want to leave.

However, this changed slightly on the Saturday afternoon before they were due to catch the Hogwarts Express back home, when he and Scorpius were in the library trying to grasp the concept of wizard's chess to pass the time. Both boys were dreadful, and the animated chess pieces quickly became impatient with them, squeaking insults like _"You idiot!"_ and _"Not THERE, stupid!"_ when either of them made a particularly bad move. They didn't mind, though; it was fun seeing the little pieces get angry and explode on their own, too frustrated to carry on with the failing game. After three games, they switched to Gobstones instead, and were in the middle of a reasonably even match when Jimmy Blackthorn, a Gryffindor first-year who shared Albus' dormitory, came rushing up to them.

"Albus! Er, Professor McGonagall wants to see you in her office, and Scorpius too. She said you have to go immediately" he told them. Jimmy was a rather tall boy with pale brown hair and brown eyes, but a small and shy voice. He shifted nervously from foot to foot where he stood, and Albus thought he looked like a mouse with his small twitchy nose and prominent ears. Albus looked from Scorpius to Jimmy and back again. His friend had no idea what was going on either.

"Okay, we'll be there in a minute" Albus told Jimmy, and packed up the Gobstones set, putting the cloth bag which held them in his jeans pocket. Outside the library, he saw Victoire waiting, and Jimmy handed them over to her.

"You better not be in too much trouble, Albus" she said as she marched them down the corridor, and up two flights of stairs. The lighting was considerably dimmer here, and shafts of bright winter sunlight shone through the high windows.

"I don't even know why she wants to see us" Albus replied. Victoire's brows furrowed. Her Head Girl badge shined in the light, pinned onto her robes just above the golden lion emblazoned on her chest. When they reached the end of a third corridor, Albus saw that they were in the right place; built into the wall was a giant golden griffin, metallic talons glinting in the light. Victoire stepped ahead of them.

"I wish to see Professor McGonagall" she addressed the griffin in a loud, clear voice. "I have Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy with me" At these words, the griffin sprung into life, and swivelled on its' golden legs to reveal a revolving staircase. Following Victoire's lead, they jumped onto it, and were taken up to a large, deep mahogany door with a matching golden griffin knocker. Albus suddenly felt nervous. He shot a sideways glance at Scorpius, who was looking paler than usual. Victoire knocked on the door three times.

"Enter!" called the voice of Professor McGonagall. There was a soft click, and the door swung open on its' brass hinges. Victoire beckoned Albus and Scorpius inside. The circular office was just as it had always been; three quarters of the wall space was lined with shelves stuffed with old, leather-bound books; on several small tables stood a number of curious silver instruments; and on a single shelf to Albus' right sat the Sorting Hat, so worn and tatty now it could hardly be called a hat at all.

"Ah, thank you, Miss Weasley. You may go" Professor McGonagall said, and Victoire left, the heavy door shutting with another click behind her. The Headmistress signalled for Albus and Scorpius to come forward. It was then, and only then, that Albus realised that there was someone else in the room. A black girl with long dark hair and high cheekbones was sitting in a chair at McGonagall's desk. When she turned around, Albus saw that it was Esmeralda Zabini. A smug smile was plastered to her face, and she had a triumphant look about her. She sneered when Albus caught her eye.

"I have brought you and Mr. Malfoy here on the basis of some very serious accusations" Professor McGonagall explained. "Do either of you have any idea what those might be?" she looked at Albus and Scorpius, who were standing next to Esmeralda, over her square spectacles.

"No, Professor" Scorpius replied, but his voice was uncertain. Albus' mouth became dry. Was it possible that she knew...? But how? There had been no one there to see them. At least, he thought there hadn't been...He turned his gaze to Esmeralda. Had she seen them, somehow?

"What about you, Mr. Potter? Do you know what these might be?" McGonagall asked him.

"No, Professor" he said. His eyes drifted to the space above McGonagall's head, behind her chair. About twenty or so portraits were hanging there, all moving around in their frames. He knew these to be the portraits of old Hogwarts Headmasters and Mistresses. He thought he recognized Phineas Nigellus Black, a haughty-looking wizard in a black cap who sometimes visited Grimmauld Place, where his other portrait hung. Dilys Derwent was there, too, an old witch with silver hair in long ringlets past her shoulders. In the very centre of them all, however, was the biggest portrait; this one depicted an old man with very long silvery-white hair and a matching beard, with a silver tasselled cap perched on top. His bright blue eyes seemed to twinkle even in this painting, and he looked at Albus from behind a pair of half-moon glasses. He knew this man to be Albus Dumbledore, the wizard who had given him his name. For one moment, he thought the older Albus was staring at him, and quickly averted his gaze so as not to seem rude.

"Miss Zabini tells me that you have been sneaking around the school unattended without supervision" Professor McGonagall went on. "And she also tells me that you have been attempting to gain unauthorized access to confidential school records. She overheard you discussing the matter in the school library." Albus and Scorpius froze where they stood. Scorpius' mouth dropped open in shock and remained as such for a few moments before he remembered to shut it again. Professor McGonagall frowned. Her mouth became a hard line.

"I take it, then, from your reactions that this is _true_?" she asked them disbelief. Esmeralda smirked, and Albus resisted the urge to make a very rude hand gesture at her back. McGonagall's eyes widened slightly.

"Well, I'd never have thought...I'm sure your parents would be very disappointed in you, the both of you" she said. "You understand that this is a very serious matter, do you not? Breaking into school records is uncalled for! Why on earth should you wish to gain such information in the first place?" Albus and Scorpius said nothing, shock and surprise etched into their faces. He had never liked Esmeralda Zabini anyway, but now he positively hated her. How dare she tell on them! And Scorpius was her _cousin_. Why would she denounce him to the Headmistress?

"Er...we were just curious, Professor. We should have asked, really" Scorpius lied. Well, it wasn't exactly a _lie_ – but it wasn't the whole truth, either.

"Yes, you should have!" Professor McGonagall scolded. She looked at both boys for a long moment, and then her voice softened. "But – and be sure that this will be a one-off for both of you – as it is the Christmas holidays, I will refrain from punishing you for the moment. I must warn you however, that if you do anything like this again you will be placed in detention and a letter will go home to your families. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor" Albus said.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall" Scorpius added. McGonagall sat up a little straighter in the high-backed, throne-like chair in which she was sitting behind a large mahogany desk.

"Very well. You may leave. You too, Miss Zabini" Esmeralda scraped back her chair and stood up. Keen to get away from their betrayer, Albus and Scorpius left first, with Esmeralda behind them. Glad that they had escaped punishment anyhow, the friends felt a little less nervous. At least they were going home the next morning; Albus couldn't wait to see his parents and his sister.

At the end of the third floor corridor, Albus and Scorpius parted ways; the Slytherin Common Room was four floors below, in the dungeons under the Black Lake; the Gryffindor Common Room, four floors above in one of the four main towers of the castle. As he'd predicted, Rose and Molly were waiting for him in the main common room, sitting on the squashed scarlet sofa in front of a blazing fire, even though the sun was bright outside. They were playing a game of wizards' chess on the low table in the centre of the room, but being such a dreadful player himself, he couldn't tell who was winning.

They both looked up when he crossed over to them and sat himself down beside Rose, who was busy poking a bishop of hers across the game board. Albus had already decided not to tell Rose about being summoned to see Professor McGonagall, because he knew what her response would be; _"You broke into school records? But Albus, that's a really serious crime, students aren't allowed to see school records, Harry and Ginny will kill you! You really shouldn't have done it, you know"_. He thought he could spare the lecture, and so did not tell her. It was bad enough having her ranting and raving about James every time he got into trouble; he didn't want to add himself to her wrath as well. The last thing he wanted was another Howler in the family.

**_A/N: Soooo, did you like it? Hate it? Can't decide? Whatever, just review it and let me know what you think. You know you want to! Plus, it's Christmas time in the next chapter, so prepare for some festive madness in the Potter household! Cue James getting into even _more_ trouble...._**

**_HPfangirl4life x_**


	15. Going Home

_**A/N: Wow, that took a lot less to write than I thought! Yay me for quicker updates! Anyhoo, I have now finished drafting the plots for books 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6, but don't have a plotline or title yet for book 7. Oh well. I've even started writing a rather shocking plotline for book 4, but I'M not telling you what it is! Muahahahaha! Ahem, anyway, on with the story - here's chapter 15! Enjoy!**_

**_***_**

_CHAPTER FIFTEEN_

_Going Home_

At quarter to eleven on the following Sunday morning, three hundred or so students were milling about the platform at Hogsmeade station, chatting and helping friends load their trunks, owl cages and the like onto the scarlet steam train now waiting for them. Albus, Scorpius, Rose and Molly were among them. After hoisting four trunks, three owl cages and another small suitcase belonging to Rose which Albus strongly suspected was full of books onto the train, they clambered on and hurried to find a compartment. By the time it was time to leave, most of the students had now boarded the train and the last of them were hurrying on before the whistle was blown. It took the four a good few minutes to hunt down an empty compartment, and when they did they sat down with relief. Most of Saturday evening had been taken up with finishing packing, checking that they had everything, careful not to leave anything behind. Albus and Molly had been roped into helping Rose find her copy of _A History of Magic_ and after forcing them to look for it for two hours, Albus had rather liked the idea of grabbing the scarlet and gold Gryffindor scarf she had been wearing and strangling her with it.

Scorpius, however, had a much less pleasant time packing. Annoyed that they had not been punished for sneaking around the school after hours, Esmeralda had taken to hiding most of his Scorpius' possessions around the Slytherin Common Room and then not telling him where she had put them. He recounted this tale to the other three as the train pulled out of the station and chugged away, off on the journey home.

"I was up until four o'clock trying to find everything again, it took me ages" he said, yawning widely.

"She shouldn't have hidden your stuff" Rose told him.

"She hates me" he shrugged in reply, as if that settled the matter. Albus had not joined in the conversation; he was busy staring out of the window, watching the world fly by beyond the glass. Leaving Hogwarts felt like swallowing an ice cube; uncomfortable and cold. Yes, he may have injured both his arms in a matter of weeks, had been extremely embarrassed when James received a Howler in the owl post and become increasingly annoyed at Rose's lack of adventure, but he had enjoyed every minute of it. Well, maybe not punching Scorpius in the face, but everything else he _had_ enjoyed. It almost pained him to leave, but he imagined the look on his mother's face if he wrote to tell her he was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas and decided that he had best go home to see his family. Besides, Lily would want to know all about his first half-term as a wizard.

Opposite him, Scorpius and Rose were having a game of Exploding Snap, and Albus asked if he could join them. Soon enough, Scorpius was winning and Molly losing spectacularly, and the pain of leaving Hogwarts didn't bother Albus as much. When Scorpius won four consecutive games and Rose had retired from playing to read _Defending Yourself: Hexes and Jinxes_ by Caradoc Dodderige, the lunch trolley appeared outside their compartment door.

"Would you like anything?" the short, grey-haired witch asked them. This was not the same woman who had pushed the trolley when Harry Potter was at school; this woman, though aged, looked younger; her face was less lined, and her hair was not yet white as a cloud. Albus stood up, fishing a handful of galleons from his pocket.

"I'll have a couple of Chocolate Frogs and a packet of Fizzing Whizbees, thanks" Albus told her.

"A liquorice wand, please" Scorpius said, handing over the three Sickles it would cost him. The woman smiled at both of them. She handed Albus the frogs and the Whizbees, and he paid her two galleons in return. Sitting back down, he unwrapped one of the frogs and ate with gusto, not fully realising how hungry he was until that moment. Scorpius was busy chewing on the liquorice wand he was holding. Albus had never really liked them; they were an acquired taste, and you either liked them or you didn't. He much preferred the Chocolate Frogs in comparison.

They had been on the train for more than two hours now, and the sun was beginning to burn through the winter cloud gathered in the greyish sky outside. The scenery had changed into long stretches of rolling hills and grassy fields, occupied only by the occasional cow or a cluster of sheep. Rose had finally put aside _Defending Yourself: Hexes and Jinxes_ to play a game of Gobstones across the table with Molly – who sat beside Albus – leaving Albus and Scorpius to do some more talking.

"I wish I had another chance to look at my dad's file" Scorpius said quietly, not wanting either of the girls to hear. "He won't tell me anything at home, and mum doesn't like to mention it either. It's like they're _scared_ of telling me or something" he sighed.

"I know how you feel. Dad won't tell me anything about how he _really_ stopped Voldemort. He won't talk about it" Albus replied.

"I see your point. But with my dad, it's just a bit weird" Scorpius explained. "He won't mention the War at _all_, and every time someone does, he pretends to be deaf and ignores me. I think it's a bit unfair." Albus had no answer to this, though he knew how Scorpius felt. Not knowing about your own parents' lives was frustrating and annoying.

"My dad told me a few things" Albus said. "General stuff, mostly. He won't go into details."

"Well, at least you know _something_. All I know is that loads of people died that were on our side, and all of Voldemort's followers were sent to Azkaban. They're still there now, dad says" Scorpius told him.

Not saying anything else on the matter, they joined in with Rose and Molly's game of Gobstones. As with Exploding Snap, Scorpius was by far the best player and won five of the six games they played. By this time, the winter sun was descending across the sky, which had darkened greatly. Glancing at his watch, Albus saw that it was nearing four o'clock. Only an hour left, now, until he would be home. The thought made him feel excited. Quidditch practice had been thin on the ground lately, since it was a whole three months until they would face Ravenclaw in the next round of the Quidditch Tournament, and he longed to get on a broomstick again. He would go to his grandmother Molly's house, and fly over the fields that surrounded The Burrow, and seeing as the house was in the middle of nowhere, there was no chance of being spotted by stray Muggles. Maybe his dad would help him practice, and James, if he found a way of forcing him into it...and with that thought, he remembered that it was James' birthday in three weeks. Having a birthday so close to Christmas was difficult and annoying. He had no idea what to get his brother. Probably something to throttle him with the next time he decided to tease him about Thestrals or whatever came to his mind at that moment. Speaking of Thestrals...he had always found the creatures interesting, though morbid as they were; you could only see them if you'd seen someone die. He'd always wanted to know what they looked like, how they acted...did they like people? He would never know, because – touch wood – he would never be able to see them. He would have to ask his father about them when he had the chance. It seemed to Albus as if he had a lot of things he would like to ask his father lately.

All too soon, the Hogwarts Express began to slow down and the views beyond the glass windows of the compartment came into focus. Up ahead, Albus saw King's Cross Station getting nearer and nearer, and the four of them scrambled to keep whatever things they had brought onto the train with them in their bags. Rose packed away her book; Scorpius stuffed his set of Gobstones back into their cloth bag and put them in his pocket for safekeeping; Molly pulled on her jacket and shoes, which she had taken off to let the air get at her feet; and Albus shrugged on his coat, bending down to retie a shoelace on his trainer that had come undone somehow.

All around them, Albus heard other students getting ready to get off the train, their chatter filling the corridors as the scarlet steam train pulled to a stop with a _phut_ of the engine, clouds of steam blowing past the windows of the carriages. Scorpius dragged the compartment door open and the four of them filed out, caught in the crowds of students now disembarking the train, fetching their trunks and owls from the station porter, who was unloading luggage halfway down the platform.

As he stepped off the train and into the bright lights of Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Kings' Cross Station, Albus was greeted by the sounds (and squawks) of children rushing to meet their parents, come carrying owl cages, others baskets in which an assortment of cats were either snoozing or hissing at passers-by; people were talking to friends who were waiting for their children; and there was hardly any space to walk, so making it over to the porter to collect their trunks and Albus' and Rose's owls, Jemima and Hestia, was difficult. Rose, being the tallest of the four, led the way through the throng of people crowded on the platform. They weren't waiting long, however, and then Albus steered his trunk and owl through the crowd, peering for his parents. Scorpius was doing the same, sans the owl cage. Molly had already left, having spotted her father standing not a few feet away from them. Albus strained his eyes, trying to see through the masses of people on the platform, looking for his mother's telltale flaming red hair or his father's green eyes and glasses, and then –

"Albus! Over here!" he heard a familiar voice call his name. He spun around and, sure enough, there they were; his mum, dad, Lily and James – who had reached them before Albus – smiling and waving at him. He quickly pushed his trolley over to them, and no sooner had he come within centimetres of his family his mother grabbed him and enveloped him in a smothering hug.

"Mum!" he gasped. "I can't – breathe!"

"Let him _go_, Ginny, don't strangle the boy" his father laughed. Ginny Potter reluctantly let her son go. Albus turned his gaze to his father. He was beaming. The two looked at each other for a long time, and then Albus hugged his father as well.

"_Well?_" piped up Lily, who was feeling left out of this little reunion. "What was it _like_, Albus? Tell me!" Albus looked from his father to his mother and back again.

"It was brilliant" he grinned.

"He wasn't attacked by Thestrals, at least" James joked. Lily looked scandalised.

"You said they were _invisible!_" she exclaimed.

"Don't worry, Lily. They are" Harry reassured his daughter. "Right, Al?"

"Yep. Invisible" he agreed. Lily's face softened.

"So did you really have a good time?" his mum asked him, her expression worried now.

"_Yes_, mum. Really. It was great. Just like dad said it would be"

"Apart from getting shoved head-first into a toilet on the second floor by Peeves" James said solemnly.

"WHAT?!"Ginny spluttered angrily.

"Nothing!" James sang. His mother opened her mouth as if to say something, and then shut it again. Her eyes narrowed. She turned to Albus.

"You _didn't_, did you?" she asked him, her voice strained. "Did you?"

"No, mum. James is just being an idiot, as usual" Albus insisted. He had no idea where James might have heard such a thing; there was more of a chance he'd made it up to get a reaction from their parents.

"Erm, can we make a move? We're blocking the way" Harry said. Indeed they were; families were having to take hairpin bends to manoeuvre their trunks and cages and cat baskets across the platform. The children gaped at Harry as they walked past, staring with wide eyes. Albus had the desire to ask them if they wanted a photograph. He knew his father didn't like being the centre of attention; he had inherited that from him.

"Come on, then, if we want to miss the traffic" Ginny said, taking Albus' luggage trolley and steering it the opposite way, up the platform. James went behind her, followed by Lily, who was asking James if the Thestrals really were invisible. Albus hung back with his father, who fell into step beside him.

"I told you not to listen to James, didn't I?" he said. "All that rubbish about being in Slytherin, it's his idea of a good joke."

"I know" Albus replied. "I tend to ignore him, anyway"

"Look, I'm glad you really enjoyed it. I was worrying that you'd hate it and beg to come home" his father told him.

"Really?"

"Yes"

And with that, a comfortable silence fell between them, and when they reached the car, Harry made James sit in the front with him so that he wouldn't wind Albus up.

**_A/N: Soooo....did you like it? Hate it? Whatever you thought, just review it and let me know! I rely on your feedback to keep this story as good as it can be!_**

**_HPfangirl4life x_**


	16. A Very Potter Christmas

_**A/N: Sorry for the slow update, my laptop got a virus and it needed fixing so I couldn't use the Internet...but now I can! This is chapter sixteen for all you fans out there. Enjoy! x**_

_***_

_CHAPTER SIXTEEN_

_A Very Potter Christmas_

Not a day after Albus had arrived home; their small area of London was buried under three inches of snow. Harry had spent most of the Monday morning trying to shift the snow from the driveway, whilst scolding James for sneaking up on Albus and shoving a dozen icy snowballs down his jacket. Lily was sitting cross-legged in the snow, watching, wishing they had a hill to sledge down. Their mother was inside, decorating the house for Christmas, and after lunch she roped the four of them into help, not without James complaining that he wanted to use his computer and venting his anger by trying to strangle Albus with a length of red and gold tinsel. In fact, he was putting up such a fuss that Ginny left Harry, Albus and Lily to put up the decorations in the living room and frog-marched James to the kitchen, forcing him to help make Christmas pudding where she could keep an eye on him.

A few days later, Albus was woken rather violently by someone blowing a large bugle in his ear. He shot up in bed, hair sticking up all over the place, and saw Roxanne standing at the foot of his bed, bent double with laughter. He threw his pillow at her and chased her downstairs, still in his pyjamas and slippers. He saw why Roxy was here when he went into the living room, whose walls were now heavy with bushes of holly and long strings of green ivy, paper chains courtesy of Lily and a not-so-small Christmas tree, covered in multicoloured baubles and tinsel, with a glittering gold star on the top, also made by Lily. In a fit of creativity, Albus saw that his sister had also stuck little red and green bows all along the mantelpiece, around the edge of the coffee table and the windowsills. He thought the overall look was very festive.

His Uncle George and Aunt Angelina were sitting on the rather saggy sofa, flanked on one side by Fred, who was perched on the arm of the sofa and looking suspiciously mischevious. It seemed that Uncle George had come straight from the shop, because he was still wearing his mauve WWW robes. There was an enormous box wrapped in silver paper and an equally large black bag at his feet.

"You are awake, then" his dad greeted him as he sat down on the floor, backed up against the overstuffed footstool.

"Yeah, thanks to Roxy" Albus yawned. His dad laughed.

"Not blowing that bugle thing again, is she?"

"You guessed it" Albus said. His dad shot a mock-glare at Uncle George, who only grinned back.

"It's not funny, George. She gave me a heart attack this morning when I was putting out the washing" his mother had arrived in the living room, still wearing her own dressing gown and looking annoyed. "And Harry, you need to have a little talk with your son" she said coldly. "He's in the kitchen waiting" She pointed out the door. After giving Albus a look which clearly said _Dear God, not again_, he left. She sat down in the space that his father had just vacated, ruffling Albus' hair as she did. He felt his face flush with embarrassment at this kind of thing. He often wished she'd be less..._mumsy_ with him. He was eleven years old now.

Lily flew into the room next, skidding in her fluffy bed-time socks. Her face was flushed red with what Albus could only describe as excitement. She was panting, as if she'd run a marathon.

"Teddy-Victoire-outside-they're _kissing_- James was-right!" she gasped excitedly. Uncle George and Aunt Angelina exchanged a look. Fred's grin widened, and he suddenly sloped off without a word, winking at Albus. He could only imagine that what his cousin had in mind was nothing Ginny Potter would tolerate in her house.

"Are we going to get some peace in here?" his mother asked. "Has everyone finished interrupting?"

"Come off it, Gin, they're only having fun" Uncle George said. "It's Christmas!" Albus couldn't agree more.

Suddenly, there was the shrill hooting of a horn and a loud bang, followed by much shouting. Ginny jumped up and ran to the window.

"ROXANNE! FRED! THIS-IS-_PRIVATE!" _screeched Victoire furiously. "LEAVE US ALONE!" On hearing this, Uncle George and Aunt Angelina went to the window too. Albus was eager to know what was going on. "GO AWAY!"

"What's happening?" he asked.

"You know, I'm not quite sure" his Uncle George replied. "But it _seems_ like Roxy decided to blow her bugle in Victoire's ear and gave a fright." He was laughing. The front door opened and a furious Victoire stormed inside, with Teddy leaning against her shoulder. She helped him into the living room and sat him down on the sofa, her face bright red with anger and screaming at Roxanne and Fred. By this time, Harry and James had come to investigate the noise whilst Ginny and Aunt Angelina went to drag Fred and Roxanne inside.

"What did she do this time?" Harry asked.

"She blew that stupid bugle right my ear, gave me and Teddy the shock of our lives" Victoire huffed. "Ted got such a fright he tripped over a bucket in the porch and sprained his ankle" she said frostily.

"Ah. I was using that bucket to shift the snow from the drive yesterday. Sorry, Ted, I should've moved it" Harry apologised. "Ginny will have a look at your ankle once she's finished telling off George for not being able to control his kids".

*

Over the week going up to Christmas, most of Albus' various relatives came to drop off presents and talk about arrangements for the Christmas dinner his grandmother Molly was cooking for the whole family. Albus thought it was very kind of her, because she had cooked for them every year since Albus could remember, and The Burrow was no manor house; nowhere near as wide as it was tall, the kitchen alone could barely hold a handful of people. Albus had never understood how everyone fitted into it. But this year, his mother was in charge of dessert, so she had made an enormous Christmas pudding especially for the occasion, which was now wrapped in silver kitchen foil and sitting in the fridge.

The base of the bushy Christmas tree in the Potter's front room was now crammed with packages and parcels in shiny paper; big ones and smaller ones and medium sized-ones. James took immense joy in teasing Lily by saying all the biggest ones were for him, because he was the eldest and therefore got much bigger presents than little sisters. He had tried this tack on Albus, but he was immune, after years of being wound up thus. Lily would often sit in front of the tree, squinting hard at all the different parcels, studying their shapes and trying to figure out what they were. Roxanne and Fred had been put under house arrest and weren't allowed out until Christmas Day; Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was closed for the festive period so Uncle George was spending most of his time trying to rein Fred in on some of his more outrageous schemes, under strict instructions from Aunt Angelina; and when the Auror Office closed for Christmas, Albus was glad to have his dad back around the house, even if it _was_ his idea to let James help Uncle George with his inventions for the shop, which, it had to be said, was completely ridiculous.

*

Albus woke, bugle-less but still tired, on December the twenty-fifth with a smile on his face. Feeling a rush of childish excitement, he jumped out of bed and pulled on his slippers. James gave a large snore from the next bedroom, and Albus rolled his eyes to himself. Trust someone like James to carry on sleeping on Christmas day. Nonetheless, he yanked open his bedroom door and peered along the landing. The yellowish first rays of sun streamed in from the small window above the top of the banister. Judging by the quality of the light, it was still early. His parents would be up yet, and neither would James or Lily. So, careful not to make too much noise, he crept down the stairs on tiptoes to the living room. A cluster of birds twittered in the trees somewhere outside, and Albus heard the engine of a car in the street. Not wanting to wake anyone, he left the light off and squinted at the bauble-laden tree in the dawn half-darkness. He tried to make out the shapes of the presents; the sharp corner of a box, perhaps, or the sheen of metallic wrapping paper. He felt a rush of excitement just looking at them, wondering which ones had his name written on them. He decided to have a look.

He knelt down before the tree, feeling for the packages with his hands. He pulled out a biggish one and peered at the label on the front. He had chosen well. This one had _his_ name on it. Albus held it in his hands. Dare he open it? Before everyone else arrived? He couldn't make up his mind. If he _did_ open it, then it wouldn't be fair on Lily and James...but if he left it, it would drive him crazy to know what it was. He took a deep breath, and then fumbled for a corner of the wrapping and pulled. His heart gave a childish thump as he heard the paper rip beneath his fingers.

"Aren't you a bit old for sneak peeks before the main event, Al?" he heard his father's voice from the doorway behind him. Albus jumped and turned around; his dad put the light on and was grinning at him. His eyes – Albus' eyes – dropped to the present Albus was holding.

"I thought you and mum were asleep" he admitted timidly.

"Ah well, you've started now. Might as well finish it" his dad said.

"Can I?" Albus asked excitedly. His dad nodded. And falling on the present like a dog that'd gone hungry, he ripped off the rest of the shiny paper; and a hard, black leather case fell out of the wrapping. Across the front, the letters _Broomstick Serving Kit_ were stamped in bronze-gold ink. Albus' mouth fell open.

"_That_ one is from me" his dad told him. His grin widened. "Your aunt Hermione gave me one of these for my birthday when I was thirteen. Since you've got a broomstick and you're on the team, I thought it would come in handy". Albus didn't know what to say. He unzipped the case and peered inside. A small piece of parchment fell out, thicker than what he was used to using for his notes and essays. He picked it up, and read:

_You've got the broomstick servicing kit, and now you need the broomstick. Your new Firebolt 3100 is waiting for you at Quality Quidditch Supplies. I'll take you there to get it this afternoon. _

_Happy Christmas!_

_Dad_

Albus was lost for words. A real-life Firebolt 3100 was his! He'd only had his current broomstick for four years – it was a birthday present was he was seven – which wasn't that long. He'd stared at the new Firebolt in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies every time he'd visited Diagon Alley. He'd never expected to get closer to such a fine broomstick than the glass case in which it was kept in the shop. But now – _now_ he had one all for himself!

"Seriously, dad? Is this for real?" he asked, awed. His father only nodded in reply.

"Wow. Thanks!" Albus said.

"Well, I thought your other one needed an upgrade anyway. The tail was getting a bit shabby" he dropped his voice, "but don't harp on about it to your mother, the best model she's ever played on was a Firebolt 250, and that was nearly ten years ago. She'd kill for one of these".

Nothing could compare to how he felt right now. You could call him superficial, but owning the current top broomstick in the entire wizarding world made him burst with pride. He knew, from the small plastic sign that had sat in front of the broom's display case, that not even International teams had been able to get their hands on the Firebolt 3100 yet. He cringed for a second when he imagined the price of the Firebolt, but it was lost in his delight and excitement of owning the best broom in the world.

There was a loud clatter and a lot of thundering footsteps; then the living room door crashed open. James and Lily had burst into the room noisily; their faces alight with childish excitement.

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS!" James bellowed at the top of his voice; he then hurtled to the foot of the tree and began searching wildly for the presents with his name on. Lily took a more careful approach – after hugging her father, she sat on the floor next to Albus and her eyes fell on the Broomstick Servicing Kit at his feet. She picked it up, bewildered; and then she shrieked, "ALBUS, YOU GOT A _FIREBOLT 3100_?"

James stopped his frantic searching to stare at him. Albus felt his face going red with embarrassment.

"You got an _international quality broomstick_?" he gasped, disbelieving. Then his brow furrowed. "I don't _believe_ this!" He was clearly annoyed that he, being the eldest, had not received such a gift.

"Don't be selfish" Lily snapped. "It's not all about you"

"It _certainly_ isn't" came the voice of Albus' mother Ginny from the doorway. She, like the rest of the family, was still in her pyjamas and dressing gown; her wand peeked out from the front pocket.

Once their mother had sat down in the armchair nearest to the tree, the three of them set about scrounging the rest of their presents from under the tree. Albus unwrapped a copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ by Kennilworthy Whisp (from his father, again), a large box of Chocolate Frogs, a new digital camera (James had broken his last one when he threw it down the stairs in a fit of rage because Albus had come into his room without knocking), a box of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products from Uncle George and Aunt Angelina, along with an assortment of other items including a new watch, a tin of homemade fudge from his Aunt Audrey (she owned a bakery-confectioners in Diagon Alley which made old-fashioned sweets and chocolates) and a traditional Weasley jumper from his grandmother, in scarlet and gold stripes to match the Gryffindor house colours.

After much protesting from James ("But can't I try it out now, _please_, mum?" – he had received three new video games for his computer), Ginny cooked a large breakfast of eggs, bacon and sausages, then gave them an hour only get dressed and look presentable for going over to The Burrow, where they would eat the Christmas feast grandma Molly had prepared for them. She said that they were supposed to look smart, so Albus had toyed with putting on his dress robes – but, decided that they were too fancy and put on his new jumper and a pair of jeans he found in his wardrobe. He hastily tried to make his hair lie flat, but it wouldn't obey so he gave up trying.

Pausing only to take the Christmas pudding out of the fridge and confiscate James' Dungbombs, which he had stuffed in his coat pockets, they lined up in front of the fireplace and Ginny took a small pot off the mantelpiece. From his experiences with using the Floo Network, Albus was not looking forward to the journey; he hated travelling by Floo Powder and his dad knew it, partially because he disliked this way of travelling almost as much as he hated the sensation of Apparating. His mother had donned a bottle green evening dress which came to her calves and made her red hair stand out; his father had opted for a t-shirt and jeans under his best robes.

He took a handful of the gritty powder and stepped into the fireplace while his mother watched anxiously. He had to stoop to avoid hitting his head; he was tall, and the roof of the fireplace was rather low. Taking a deep breath, he threw the powder onto the coals- which were flickering with tiny orange flames – and said, as clearly as he could, "The Burrow!" There was a sensation of drowning, but he was spinning very fast and felt like he was being forced through a very narrow tunnel; his chest was uncomfortably tight and he was careful to keep his elbows in. And then it stopped, and he fell, face forward, out of the fireplace at The Burrow.

He got up quickly, not wanting to be run over by whoever was next, making his head reel slightly; but he didn't have much time to look around before he was enveloped into a huge embrace by his grandmother.

"Albus, dear, I was wondering when you would come – oh, and Harry too!" she looked over his shoulder; his father had just appeared out of the fireplace behind him.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Weasley" Harry greeted her. After all these years, he still didn't feel comfortable calling her by her first name, even though she insisted addressed her thus. There was a shriek of delight, and Albus' mother hugged his Gran; followed by James and Lily.

"Nearly everyone's hear already, their all in the living room. There's not much space, I'm afraid, so you might have to stand, we don't have enough chairs..." Gran ushered them through into The Burrow's small living room, where they were greeted by, indeed, most of their family. From a quick head-count, the only ones Albus could see that were missing were Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur, Victoire, Dominique and Louis. He wondered if they were running late.

While Gran bustled around in the kitchen, making last-half-hour preparations and checking the two fat turkeys roasting in the oven, the adults mingled while Albus, James and Lily were left with their cousins. Rose and Hugo came over to them almost immediately, and she launched into a blow-by-blow account of all the presents she'd got, which included copies of _A History of Magic_, _Practical Defence Against the Dark Arts_ and _A Guide to Wizarding Creatures: From the Docile to the Dangerous_; and insisted on giving Albus a summary of each chapter individually, so he never got a word in edgeways to tell her about his brand new Firebolt 3100. He couldn't wait to go and fetch it that afternoon; it was all he could do not to go out and get it himself; he knew how to get to the right area of London on the Underground and how to get into Diagon Alley. But he thought of his mother's expression and worry if she knew he'd gone out on his own, and put that urge aside. Hugo was showing Lily his new binoculars in the corner, and she looked on interestedly; Molly and Lucy, Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey's daughters, were talking to Teddy; his hair was short, spiky and his favourite bright turquoise for the festive occasion, and his clothes would not have looked out of place at Camden Lock, one of Albus' favourite places in London but the one place his mother would never let him visit too often.

After a while, Albus was feeling a little left out; his cousins had gone off to talk to his other cousins, and the adults were discussing things like the exchange rate of the Galleon over glasses of eggnog or wine. Even Rose had gone off to talk about house-elves and goblins with Lucy, two years above Albus at Hogwarts and very keen on sticking to the rules. She strongly resembled her father in personality and attitude; she was eager to become a Prefect next year and would like to be Head Girl, too. It was no wonder that Fred and Roxanne were not her favourite cousins, being pranksters as they were. In fact, Albus was surprised that they hadn't tried anything yet.

Soon the dinner was ready, and the warm aromas of thick gravy and roast potatoes filled the ground floor of The Burrow. Albus sat himself between his father and Teddy, just like always; it was fun talking to Teddy and much better than sitting next to Rose or Victoire, who had looked sour ever since she had arrived and was giving Fred and Roxanne dirty looks in between glancing over at Teddy with loved-up eyes. Albus tried to avoid watching her whilst she did this; it made his feel uncomfortable and embarrassed. Teddy just laughed it off, and pulled an enormous purple cracker with Albus, which exploded like a bomb and cast a haze of greenish mist over the table. Everything, as per usual, was utterly delicious; Gran had outdone herself this year, as everything tasted even better. Albus choked on a piece of turkey when Fred set off an Exploding Dungbomb under his chair, making him jump about a foot in the air; Rose, Victoire and Lucy complained about the smell of rotten eggs which then filled their nostrils. Then it was time for pudding, for which James was truly grateful as he was still hungry even after eating two helpings of everything ("You're so much like Ron, you know, he was always stuffing his face with food" his Aunt Hermione said, much to Uncle Ron's dislike), and Gran put down an enormous trifle, treacle tart, three bowls of No-Melt Ice Cream in different flavours and his mother's Christmas pudding, alight with blue flames, on the table in front of them.

Once Albus was quite sure he couldn't eat another bite, his father announced that he had to leave for a bit - but didn't say why, and winked at Albus when he caught his eye. His heart raced; he was going to get his new Firebolt 3100. They pulled on their coats and went towards The Burrow's fireplace. He hadn't wanted to travel by Floo Powder again – he'd expected his father to take him by Side-Along Apparition, because that's how his cousins travelled with his aunts and uncles – but he would have to grin and bear it, keeping the image of a shiny brand-new broomstick in his mind's eye. He took a fistful of the silvery powder, stepped into The Burrow's low fireplace, and said "Diagon Alley!"

There was that sensation again, that feeling of being forced down a narrow tunnel; watching the emerald flames of other grates whizz past him made his head spin. He shut his eyes; and then he hit a cold stone floor and the many tens of voices of witches and wizards were buzzing outside a heavy wooden door. Albus recognised the small, dark room in which he had arrived; they were in the back room of the Leaky Cauldron. Through the second door, which was on his left, Albus knew that the entrance to Diagon Alley would be waiting for them. He quickly stepped out of the way as his father came out of the fire behind him; he extinguished the flames with his wand and beckoned Albus to follow him.

The door opened onto a tiny stone courtyard not even three feet wide and four feet long; and it was boxed in on all sides by three high stone walls. The one directly in front of them, Albus knew, would take them into Diagon Alley itself. His father took out his wand again, and tapped the bricks in front of them; as soon as he had done this, the wall began to fall away as though melting, and in a matter of seconds, the cobbled street of Diagon Alley appeared before them.

It had changed a lot over the years gone by. The shops that were getting old, in need of repair or updating, had been rebuilt and given a new coat of paint; new shop signs were made out of gold, silver, brass and bronze; and the most extravagant change to the small street was that every shop was now painted in almost every colour under the sun. Where the Magical Menagerie had once been plain brown, it was now bright red; Eyelops Owl Emporium had been painted midnight blue with silver stars to represent the night sky, the owls' natural habitat; the Apothecary, where you could buy everything you needed for Potions, was painted a rich forest green; Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlour was a shocking pink; and Ollivanders, the wand shop, was painted yellow and decorated with pictures of all the different types of wands that Mr. Ollivander had on offer. Walking down the street – which was surprisingly busy, despite it being Christmas day – it was easy to see where their inspiration had come from. Violently orange and twelve feet tall, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes stood head and shoulders above the rest; the only building bigger than it was Gringotts Bank. Even though the ever-popular joke shop was closed until the day after Boxing Day, it still held the atmosphere of a fun and exciting place, from the vibrant purple flowers in boxes on the sills of the windows, to the multicoloured flyers advertising new products and sales on the old favourites like Skiving Snackboxes and Wildifre Whizzbangs. In fact, Albus was sure that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes made more profit than all the other wizarding shops did every summer when Hogwarts students returned to buy their things for school.

Diagon Alley was not a long street, and so they reached Quality Quidditch Supplies in no time. Like all the others around it, this shop had also been refurbished and redecorated; it had been painted a pale blue and decorated and the top section of the shop, where the name _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ stood out from the background in large brass letters, pictures of broomsticks, Quaffles, Bludgers, and Golden Snitches zoomed across the words excitedly. The other two sides of the shop, each either side of the front door, were decorated with the symbols of famous Quidditch teams. Albus recognised the Chudley Cannons, Wimbourne Wasps, Balleycastle Bats and the Holyhead Harpies to name a few.

His heart racing, eager to get his hands on his new broomstick, he followed his father inside the shop. Here, the walls were painted mauve and shelves upon shelves, glass cases and racks displayed all kinds of Quidditch paraphernalia. There was a huge pyramid of scarlet Quaffles; trunks of hard black Bludgers, quivering ominously; shelves of tiny carry cases containing the walnut-sized Golden Snitch; three whole rails full of different Quidditch robes; and large display cases of boots, elbow and shin pads, wrist guards and Keeper's gloves. No sooner had Albus bent down to examine the Quidditch gloves for sale than a tall man with a pink, boyish face and greying blond hair appeared from out of nowhere. Ludo Bagman had taken over Quality Quidditch Supplies seven years ago, but there had been doubt as to whether he was suitable because of his past with dodgy deals and illegal gambling issues – but Mr. Bagman swore that he had changed, and in fact, he _had_. When he wasn't running the shop, he was a commentator for both the International and British Quidditch Leagues and was a substitute referee for all major games. As soon as he spotted Albus and Harry standing there, his watery blue eyes lit up with delight.

"Ah, Mr. Potter! Come to collect Albus' Christmas present, I suppose, have you?" Mr. Bagman asked them. He winked at Albus as he said this.

"Al couldn't wait to get out of the house, Ludo" his father said.

"I wouldn't either; that new Firebolt is to die for!" Mr. Bagman laughed. "I won't keep you waiting any longer then, Albus. It's in the back, special order, I'll just fetch it for you" And Mr. Bagman disappeared out of sight into the back room of the shop.

Now that he and his father were alone, Albus was strongly reminded of why this Christmas holidays was important; he would _have_ to ask his father about Draco Malfoy. He wondered if Scorpius had already tried interrogating his father, and if he'd been remotely successful with it. It shouldn't be too difficult; all he had to do was ask his father if it was true that he and Mr. Malfoy used to hate each other when they were at school. If his father asked how Albus knew, he would just lie and say that some of the other students asked him about it. If Harry was up to sharing anything, Albus had no doubt that his father wouldn't lie to him, not if he saw how important it was to him. Without thinking about it for a split second so that he wouldn't change his mind, he said;

"Dad, can I ask you something?"

"What is it?" his father asked him.

"I was at school, and –" he was cut off there, as Mr. Bagman had returned; and he was carrying a long package wrapped in brown paper, much wider at one end than the other. Albus smiled broadly, his heart swelling with delight. He wanted to take it from Mr. Bagman and unwrap his new Firebolt 3100 right here and now, just to look at it, take it all in. Mr. Bagman handed Albus the parcel. It was extremely light; he had expected the broom to be much heavier.

All thoughts of interrogating his father went out the window as they wished Mr. Bagman a happy Christmas, left the shop and returned to the Leaky Cauldron. Albus took the Floo Powder from his father's pocket and threw it into the orange flames in the fireplace; and half a minute later he was standing in his own kitchen (his father had told him to go back to their house, and not The Burrow), his face pink with happiness and so eager to run straight upstairs and unwrap his Christmas present he was bouncing up and down on the spot, the way Lily often did when she was excited.

"Go then, before you explode!" his father told him. "And I want to see it, mind – I've only got an eight year old Firebolt 250" Albus did not need telling twice. He raced upstairs and flung himself onto his bed, ripping at the brown paper with a feeling of intense longing. As the wrappings fell away, out fell his brand new, state-of-the-art Firebolt 3100.

Albus stared, his mouth falling open. The long mahogany handle was rigid and so highly polished he could see his own reflection in it; the tail was made up of hand-picked, whippy twigs that bent with the direction of the broom to give it extra streamline power; and the name _Firebolt 3100_ was written at the end of the handle in minute silver ink. There was a small card attached to it, tied around the base of the broom. He picked it up and read;

_THE FIREBOLT 3100_ _is the newest, most advanced technology in broomstick design for many, many years. The handle is made of the finest mahogany from only the best, hand-selected trees, with built-in extra sensitive acceleration and deceleration recognition, including a never-before seen direction-sensitive brake system. The tail twigs are each chosen individually for streamline perfection for the ultimate experience of this broom's speed. The Firebolt 3100 has the ability to accelerate from 0 to 200mph in eight seconds, exceeding its' predecessor, the Firebolt 250, by 15mph per 2 seconds. The Firebolt 3100 is the cutting edge of balance and extreme power; the streamline tail and sturdy handle gives the flyer ultimate direction control without becoming difficult to use, and its strong frame and most advanced Anti-Sabotage Jinx makes the Firebolt 3100 able to withstand almost any hex or curse put upon it. The Firebolt 3100 is easily the most impressive innovation in broomstick design and flying technology since the introduction of the first International Standard Broomstick, the Nimbus 2000, in 1991 (conclusion by the International Board of Broomstick Trading Standards in Magical Sports, 2016)._

Albus couldn't believe his eyes. Such a powerful broomstick, and it was all his! He couldn't wait to try it out, to take it for a test fly...he could almost hear the wind in his ears as he zoomed upwards into the sky, going faster and faster until the ground was a blur...and the look on the other students' faces when they saw that he owned an _International Standard Broomstick_, the _best broom ever designed_. And he laughed aloud at the expression on Esmeralda Zabini's face when she saw the Firebolt 3100...what was it Harry had told Albus she owned, a Golden Arrow 1.1? Hardly in the same league as the superb Firebolt, he thought. What would Scorpius say if he saw the kind of broomstick he would have to play against? He felt a little guilty about this when he tried to picture it.

"Do you like it, then?" his father asked him from the doorway. He was grinning was widely as Albus was; but his gaze kept drifting back to the broomstick on the bed with a kind of disappointed longing.

"I love it" Albus said after a few moments. "Thanks, dad! Just wait till Zabini _sees_ this; she'll have a heart attack!"

"I'm sure she will. It'll definitely be an improvement, that girl's a bad egg" his father chuckled.

"This is the _best_ Christmas present ever!" Albus declared enthusiastically. All plans for asking his father about his past were forgotten.

**_A/N: Ooohh....what a nice chapter! I just wanted to show the kind of thing the Potters did for Christmas here, a kind of family-orientated chappie for a change. The good stuff is in the next chapter, I promise you. Well, you know the drill - love it, hate it, not sure? Whatever, just review it! I love to know what you think! _**

**_HPfangirl4life x_**


	17. Stag and Dragon

_**A/N: Hi! Here's the new version of chapter 17 for you. I spent a bit of time adding a bit onto the end of this chappie to make it longer, so I hope you enjoy the new addition. I kind of wanted to show another side of Albus and his role in the family, so I created this little plot bunny and stuck it in. Enjoy!**_

_**_

_CHAPTER SEVENTEEN_

_Stag and Dragon_

Over the next few days, Albus' euphoria at having his own Firebolt 3100 much obscured any other thoughts. He tried it out immediately, amazed by the sheer power and speed of it; he hadn't fully recognised what 0 to 200mph in eight seconds meant until he was actually on the broomstick, flying so fast he thought he would fall off but knew he wouldn't, because of the steady grip and sturdy hardwood handle. He had flown around the fields surrounding The Burrow – the only place for him to practice using it without being spotted by non-wizards in aeroplanes or nosy neighbours looking out the window – time and time again, marvelling at how high the Firebolt could go; it seemed to even go above the clouds, level with passing birds. Albus had always had issues with landing a broomstick; he was rather clumsy in doing so and often fell off. But with the Firebolt, that wasn't a problem; the _extra-sensitive acceleration and deceleration control_ and _direction-sensitive brake system_ made landing extremely easy.

Albus was only brought back reality when a letter arrived for him three days after Boxing Day. When he returned from another hours' worth of flying on the Firebolt, he' found Jemima sitting on his desk with a letter tied to her leg. On a closer look, he recognised the handwriting as being Scorpius'. Wondering if this meant that Scorpius had had any success with his father, he ripped the letter open eagerly. He had sent Jemima to Scorpius' house at the start of the holidays, reminding him to ask his dad a few things. And it looked like she had returned with his answer. It was short, and looked like it had been written at breakneck speed; Albus had to squint to understand his friend's writing in some places.

_Albus –_

_If dad knows I've been using my owl to send you this, he'll go ballistic. I tried to talk to him about you-know-what and he refused to say anything about it, just like always. When I mentioned your name (and I know I shouldn't have), he all but exploded, saying I had no right go nosing about in – and I quote – 'his private affairs that don't concern me'. But I told him he was my dad, and I had a right to know about his life, because otherwise, how could I trust him? And then...well, he hit the roof and grounded me. It's Christmas! I'm not allowed out until I go back to Hogwarts now, and I'm not allowed to use my owl to write to you or Rose. I wrote to Rose, anyway – I wasn't going to take this lying down. He even confiscated my new broomstick, a real Firebolt 3100! I told him he had a nerve to do that, and I hadn't done anything wrong, and Mum had to stop me from 'making it worse'. So now I'm under house arrest and I STILL don't know anything. Did you manage to talk to your dad yet? _

_Happy Christmas!_

_Scorpius_

Well, Albus thought, he needn't have worried about Scorpius' reaction to his Firebolt, because he'd had one of his own for Christmas. But it had been confiscated by his father after he tried to ask him about his former hatred of Harry. And now Scorpius had been grounded for what Mr. Malfoy had all but called 'being nosy' and Albus knew that he would definitely not divulge any information now. He only hoped that his own father was more tolerant of Albus' curiosity.

With Scorpius' words in his head, he went downstairs to look for his father. Luckily, James was at friend's house and Lily had gone shopping with their mother (the fridge was empty) so Albus would get his father alone to talk to him. He found him in the living room, flicking through a pile of paperwork on his lap. He looked up when Albus came in.

"So you've finally managed to drag yourself away from that Firebolt, then?" he said jokingly. This made Albus cringe, as he remembered that Scorpius' own broom had been taken away from him because of a conversation Albus was now going to try and hold with his own father.

"Yeah" Albus replied. "Dad, you know when we went to Quality Quidditch Supplies? I started to tell you something" he said.

"I remember. What seems to be the problem?"

"Well, a few kids at school were talking about...you and Scorpius' dad. They said that you weren't always friends like you are now" Albus explained. "They said that...you hated each other when you were at school" He watched his father's expression carefully.

"Ah" was the only answer his father gave. There was a pause, and then he said, "They're telling the truth, Albus. Me and Scorpius' father didn't...we didn't get along, let's put it that way" He had the tone of someone who didn't want to admit what he was saying.

"But why?" Albus said quickly. This time, his dad frowned deeply.

"Albus" he said slowly, "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you anything. Eighteen years ago, Scorpius' father and I called a truce...and we made a promise. I can't tell you what that promise was, but I can tell you that I can't break my word to him. I told you that I would explain everything to you, and James and Lily, when you're old enough to understand"

"I know how important this is to you, I know how frustrating it is not knowing about your parents – _believe_ me, I know how that feels – but I'm afraid I can't tell you anything until you're older. I promised Scorpius' father I wouldn't" he finished. Albus was beyond words. For a moment there, he thought his father was going to tell him everything...but then all he was doing was stalling! And he had said he 'made a promise' with Scorpius' father...but what did that _mean_? What was so important that he had to wait until he was _older_ to understand it properly? His father seemed to have recognised the anger in Albus' face, because then he said;

"Look, Albus. Yes, I and Scorpius' father hated each other. Loathed each other, in fact. If you knew how it was, you wouldn't ever believe we were friends now. But I can't tell you anything else, at least, not directly. If you really want to know, I can show you some memories of mine when you break up for the summer, you'll be a bit older then. They should give you a better idea of what I mean about this. I can only show you a few – the others, they were involved in the promise I made to Draco – but its' the least I can give you."

Now Albus' mind wheeled in the opposite direction. So their fathers' _had_ hated each other at school. And he knew that he would have to see those memories – and tell Scorpius what he'd seen. But he was still confused about all this talk of promises, and these 'other memories'. What did they have to do with Scorpius' father? And why would he have to wait until he was older to see them? Did this mean that _Scorpius_ would get to see them when he was old enough? Was everything actually _connected_ – the promise, these memories his father had, Albus and Scorpius? Was the promise _not to tell Albus and Scorpius anything about their lives until they were older_?

Albus' head spun with questions. He wanted to ask his father outright, _did you and Mr. Malfoy promise to keep us in the dark until we were old enough?_ But the words would not form. He was too afraid of his father's reaction – what if he became angry like Scorpius' father, and thought he was being nosy? He hated to think what his father might do if Scorpius' father had _grounded _him for it.

"I am sorry, Al. I wish I could tell you more, I really do. But I promised" his father told him. And he _did_ sound genuinely sorry. Slowly, Albus' anger faded from his mind. He could see that his father didn't want to keep him in the dark, that he wouldn't do this willingly....only everything came back to this promise he kept talking about. The promise that stopped Scorpius from knowing the truth. The promise that stopped _Albus_ from knowing the truth.

He left the living room and went back upstairs to his bedroom, pulled out a fresh roll of parchment and a pen lying nearby.

_Scorpius – _

_I asked my dad, and I think they're up to something. He kept going about this promise he'd made to your father, and that he would explain everything when we were older, because he'd promise your father he wouldn't say anything until then. But it turned out, my dad did hate your dad at school, they loathed each other. Apparently they called a truce eighteen years ago, and that puts it just after the Second Wizarding War, which is strange, because the timing is off. If they hated each other at school, and then suddenly made this truce to become friends after the War ended, then something must have happened to make them change their attitudes, right? _

_Oh, and my dad said that he would show me some of his memories in the summer if I wanted to know more. When I see them, I'll tell you what I find out – if I find anything out, that is. _

_Albus_

He rolled up the letter and tied it to Jemima's leg. "It's for Scorpius" he said to her, "you know where to find him". He stretched out his arm, and she squeezed it with her talons for a brief moment before taking off through his open bedroom window. He hoped that Scorpius could sneak a reply back again – and if he could, to get Jemima back too. He just hoped that Scorpius' father wouldn't recognise the owl and realise that Scorpius had been sending letters to him.

Lying back on his bed, Albus thought some more. He was desperate to know exactly what all this talk of promises was, and what it involved; that promise could be the key to knowing the truth, for him and for Scorpius; the latter was desperate for answers, especially since he'd heard a few Hufflepuff students whispering about him in the library, about how he'd come from an _indecent family_ and that they_ were all the same, those Purebloods_. It had made him more determined than ever to discover the truth about his parents and their families. As he mused, one thought was incredibly clear in his mind. He couldn't wait until the summer to see those memories.

***

Molly Finnigan hadn't got in touch over the holidays, and Albus was surprised. She seemed eager enough to be friends when they had met. Moreover, Albus received no more letters from Scorpius; he must have either decided not to risk it, or his father had found out and forbidden him from contacting anyone. It was extremely difficult for Albus not to write to his friend to see how he was; he even had trouble trying not to tell Rose what she had found out, even though he knew she would be displeased and would probably call him nosy. Rose often reminded Albus of Victoire in the way she seemed to disapprove of so many things in life.

Once again, when James turned thirteen at the end of the holidays, Albus couldn't help feeling like the gooseberry of the family. He often felt left out of this kind of thing, because as with every family there was a distinct hierarchy; James was the eldest, the son who did everything first; the one who went to Hogwarts first, got his wand first, turned eleven first; the son who was born first, and therefore the best. With Lily, it was different; she was the cute one, the only girl in the group of Potter children and therefore the favourite; Lily was the baby of the family; the one everyone cooed and fussed over. And then there was Albus; the middle child, always in the shadow of his jester of a brother; neither the eldest nor the youngest, not the only son the Potters had; he wasn't outgoing like James or little and sweet like Lily; his school marks were okay and his behaviour was nearly exemplary; there was nothing that made him stand out from his brother and sister. Except for his eyes. James and Lily had brown eyes. Albus had inherited his grandmother's eyes.

Lily insisted that James open her present first, which he did (a small silver plated telescope – James had developed a keen interest in Astronomy, much to his parents' amazement as he never showed much interest in anything except pranking). Then James, being the Parents' Favourite For the Day, was allowed to do anything he wanted; _anything_. Albus thought this was a ridiculous idea, because James was often prone to daydreaming and had a wild imagination, but before Albus could say this to his parents their father had whisked him off to a friendly Quidditch match between Pride of Portree and the Kenmare Kestrels. Now, James had never really liked playing Quidditch but enjoyed watching games immensely, but Albus was furious. He had been asking and asking his father if he would take him to the Kestrels game for weeks – _months_ even – and the answer had always been no, tickets cost too much. And no, I couldn't get them from the Ministry. But the moment his brother turns thirteen, _he_ was allowed to go to the game even though the tickets 'were too expensive'.

Stewing, he'd stomped off to his bedroom, turning down Lily's offer of a game of Exploding Snap (she had finally got the hang of it and was getting rather good) and throwing himself down on his bed. _It's so unfair_ Albus thought. _Just because James is the eldest he gets anything he wants. What about me?_ For a long time, Albus thought his father favoured _him_ and not James; he always took his side when his brother teased him, always helped him practice his Quidditch and flying skills, always the first to offer to help Albus with his homework when he was at primary school. Even Lily preferred James, and he knew it. She liked him best because he was _fun_. Because he was _funny_. The joker, James Potter. The one everyone liked even though he got into loads of trouble. A lot like his cousin Fred, really. A feeling of rage he had never felt before boiled in Albus' stomach. For the first time in his life, he hated his brother. Birthdays were special occasions, and a time for treating the one celebrating their birthday, everyone knew that. But Albus couldn't help thinking that James had stolen his thunder. He'd wanted to go to that Kenmare Kestrels game with his dad. He'd been asking – _pleading_ – for weeks, all summer. It just wasn't fair. _Stupid James_ Albus thought bitterly. _Stupid James Sirius Potter. Since when did getting into trouble all the time, forgetting your homework and losing loads of points for Gryffindor make you popular?_

Albus ignored his father and James when they came back, but it was difficult. All his brother could talk about was the damn match, practically waving the flag bearing the Kestrels' team emblem in his face. In fact, at dinner that evening (complete with balloons and an enormous cake for James) he almost got the tip of the flag impaled up his nostrils when James tried to re-enact a particularly good save by the Kestrels' Keeper.

Afterwards, when Albus, James and Lily had gone up to bed, there was a soft knock on Albus' door.

"Al? Mum said you were quiet today. Is something wrong?" It was his father. He had half a mind to ignore him, pretend to be asleep. He didn't really want to talk to him, because he was still angry with him.

"No" he called back. "Come in if you want". There was a definite droop to his voice that Albus couldn't explain. His father came into the room. The lamp on Albus' bedside table was still on, and in the half-light his father looked somehow tired and worn out.

"You okay?" he asked. Albus thought for a minute. Suddenly he couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I asked you for weeks if I could go to that Kestrels game" Albus snapped. "But you said the tickets were too pricey. And then today, you took James without a care in the world" There was a bitterness in his voice that he didn't like. His father's face fell.

"Merlin, Albus, I forgot" he said. "I forgot you wanted to go. I shouldn't have taken James"

"No, you shouldn't" he Albus muttered irritably.

"Hey, come on now" his father said. "It's not that bad, is it?"

"Yes" Albus replied. "You always choose James over me, just because he's the eldest. Or Lily, because she's the youngest. You never choose me" he went on "but I'm in this family, too". He watched his father's face carefully. It morphed into an expression of sympathy.

"It's not like that, you know it isn't. Me and your mum both love you – _all_ of you – very much. But if it feels like you're being left out sometimes...you should say something, Al. Really" his father explained.

"Really?" Albus asked.

"Really" The seriousness in his father's voice made him feel a little better. But he was still angry about the match.

"I know, Al – tell you what, the Quidditch World Cup's is being hosted here next year. How about we go? Just you and me – no James allowed. What do you say?" Albus beamed. The Quidditch World Cup! And James wasn't allowed to go! It was like a dream come true.

"Yes!" Albus cried. "That would be _brilliant!_"

"Do you feel better now?" his father asked him. Albus could only nod in reply. The _Quidditch World Cup_!

As his father got up to leave, Albus decided to strike whilst the iron was hot.

"What was that promise about, the one you made with Mr. Malfoy?" he asked. His father turned around.

"Not tonight, Albus. But I swear, I'll tell you when the time is right. Honestly, Al. Goodnight"

"G'night, dad" He switched off his bedroom light. The prospect of going to the Quidditch World Cup with his father overshadowed everything else, even the knowledge of a mysterious promise that may or may not have something to do with him.

**_A/N: Well, that was a chapter stuffed with knowledge! Hope you enjoyed it, and if you're one of my readers who have already read this chapter in its previous version, I hope you enjoyed the little bit I tacked on at the end. What did you think? Love it? Hate it? Not sure? Whatever - just review it! Much love x_**


	18. Sabotage

_CHAPTER EIGHTEEN_

_Sabotage_

The holidays drew to a close; it was time for Albus and James to pack their school things again and board the train back to Hogwarts. As difficult as leaving had been, going back was even more so. Albus didn't want to leave his family, but he eased this discomfort by reminding himself of all the things he would have to look forward to. The Quidditch season would be starting again, meaning team practice twice a week – Gryffindor were third in the House League and if they beat Ravenclaw, they would move up to second place only to Hufflepuff (whose house team were incredibly talented, contrary to popular belief about Hufflepuffs being no good for much) and put Slytherin in fourth place. If _they_ beat Ravenclaw, they would be third. He explained all this to his father as he helped him pack his school books and robes; he had inherited his father's lack of organisation and the tendency to just leave things where they fell.

On the last evening before Albus and James went back to Hogwarts, their mother prepared a gargantuan farewell feast. Their father tried to rein her in, reminding her that they were only going back to school after half-term and not leaving to join a cult in a tiny distant country in South America. But Albus was secretly thrilled. He may not enjoy the limelight much, but he did like parties. And he thought it was a sweet gesture from his mother that she had made the effort again this year (she had done something similar when James left for Hogwarts at his first half-term). As usual, everything was delicious; their mother's cooking skills rivalled those of their Grandma Molly. The most their dad had ever done in the kitchen was make toast, so he often let Ginny take care of the food preparations in the house.

Albus woke at the crack of dawn the following day due to his mother shaking him awake and wrenching back his curtains, letting the pale morning light fill is small but cosy bedroom.

"Come on Al, darling, I want to be nice and early to take you and James to the station" his mother said, giving him another shake. He stretched and yawned loudly. Getting up early was not one of his skills, nor one of his favourite things to do. Nevertheless, he crawled out of bed and went to the bathroom to change, trying to ignore James hammering on the bathroom door and yelling at him to hurry up, he needed the toilet. Once he was finished, he went downstairs for breakfast and found his Aunt Hermione, Uncle Ron and Rose already sitting at the roughly-hewn wooden table in the kitchen. All three were dressed and ready to go; Rose's trunk stood by the kitchen door. Hugo wasn't there.

He said hello to everyone, and then sat himself down to a handful of his mother's bacon sandwiches and several fried eggs. He wasn't greedy; he was just hungry. Albus could feel his Aunt Hermione's eyes on him as he ate; he knew she reminded her strongly of Uncle Ron right now, as did James quite often. Rose was reading a book that she had propped up against a vase of flowers on the table, which Albus remembered Lily had picked from their very own garden the previous afternoon. He took his plate to the sink when he was finished, and there was a clattering of wheels and the hoot of an owl as his father brought his trunk down into the kitchen to sit by Rose's. Jemima stared at Albus through wide sapphire eyes and shuffled about on her perch before settling down with her head under her wing for a light nap. A few minutes later, James and Lily appeared, both looking tired and equally irritable because of the early start.

"Why we h-have to g-g-et up so early?" James complained through a loud yawn.

"You don't want to miss the train, do you?" his father asked him. James shook his head.

"Then you have to be there in enough time" was the reply.

Soon, the five Potters and three Weasleys (they would have been four, but apparently Hugo was ill in bed with a bad cold so Grandma Molly was looking after him) were piling into the two cars parked in the Potters' drive. Due to a particularly clever Undetectable Engorgement Charm courtesy of Albus' dad, two large trunks, two owl cages with owls and several smaller haversacks fit comfortably into the boot of the car. James sat in the front with Albus and Lily in the back, and all the way to King's Cross she wouldn't stop asking him questions about Hogwarts.

"Is the ceiling really bewitched to look like the sky, Al?"

"Are there really ghosts there? Are they scary?"

"Aunty Hermione said that house elves work at Hogwarts. Is that true?"

"What does the Gryffindor Common Room look like? Is it all red and gold and stuff, like your new jumper?"

On and on it went, until Albus found his jaw aching from talking so much. How could a nine-year-old _speak_ for so long, and so enthusiastically? But Lily's questions about Hogwarts made the thought of leaving his family behind more difficult. He really wanted to go back, to see Molly and Scorpius and play Quidditch again – but at the same time, he loved being at home with his family, even if there were way too many of them to count. He would miss the most the chance to be with his father. Usually, he worked late into the evenings at the Ministry of Magic and often had to deal with spur-of-the-moment emergencies, whether a stray dog wandering the streets had set off a Caterwauling Charm or something more serious, like someone being injured in an illegal duel. Unlike James and Lily, who liked to socialise and easily made friends wherever they were, Albus valued his relationship with his father most of all. Perhaps it was because Albus was so much like him, not just in appearance, but in personality too; or maybe it was because being the middle child, not the oldest nor the youngest, the first-born favourite or the baby of the family, he was often left out and his father understood how he felt. Sometimes, he wished that the holidays were longer; other times, he wished that they weren't so short.

As his mother wanted, they reached King's Cross in plenty of time, and so didn't rush to get onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. They parked as close to the station as they could, because even having plenty of time didn't mean you could cross a busy London street in daylight with two owls and three heavy trunks. Once they had found a spot, a small battered blue car pulled up next to them; and Albus, with nothing short of surprise, saw that Scorpius was in the back of it and looking distinctly grumpy and annoyed. But if the car was old and beat-up, then there was a whole world of difference between it and the woman who stepped out of the driver's seat.

Albus knew that this woman must be Scorpius' mother, though he'd never seen her before; he'd only heard her talking at the meetings of the Order of the Phoenix. She was quiet petite, with thick chestnut hair that fell in curls to her jaw and wide, sky blue eyes. Albus was strongly reminded of the photographs he'd seen of women from the 1940s when he looked at her red lipstick and rosy complexion. She was wearing a charcoal grey pencil skirt and a purple satin jacket with large black buttons like poker chips; her gloves were made of red leather and her high-heeled shoes shone in the weak winter sunlight. She had a forest green hat atop her brown curls; it sat jauntily on one side, and in Albus' opinion made her look as if she was going to a wedding or Ascot. Astoria Malfoy didn't really look how Albus had imagined her.

Scorpius got out of the car then, an expression of more enthusiasm on his face; he had spotted Rose and Albus next to them. They both waved; Ginny started talking to Mrs. Malfoy and left Albus, Rose and Scorpius to themselves. The latter looked distinctly upset; he was probably still seething about being grounded by his dad. But, Albus noticed, he had been allowed to bring his new broomstick to school; just like Albus, there was a long thin package wrapped in brown paper tied to his trunk.

"Did you have a nice Christmas?" Rose asked him.

"Sort of" Scorpius shrugged. "It was okay, I suppose, but seeing as dad practically hates me now for being nosy, it could have been better".

"Was it really that bad?" Albus plucked up the courage to ask.

"Yeah. He doesn't usually get angry like that, its mum who has the temper" he lowered his voice at this part "but no, seriously, it was like a bomb had gone off in his head. He was livid with me."

Ten minutes later, they were each taking it in turns to slip through the barrier which lay, hidden and unbeknownst to the oblivious Muggle commuters around them, between platforms nine and ten. Their trunks and owl cages balanced on two trolleys, Albus and Scorpius went first; followed by Rose and then James, Lily, Albus' parents, Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron. The scarlet steam train sat just as it always did, billows of snowy white steam bursting from its chimney. Just looking at it made Albus feel excited. There were lots of families there already, making last-minute luggage checks and adjustments. He scanned the crowd, but couldn't see Molly or her parents, but he did spot his cousin Victoire; she was standing a little way away, and much too close to Teddy Lupin for Albus to feel comfortable. He supposed they were an item now. And not that this was a bad thing; he often wished that Teddy was his real brother and not just his god-brother.

James, having spotted Victoire and Teddy, pointed at them and half-shouted, "Look, dad! I told you didn't I? Didn't I, mum? I did _tell_ you they were _snogging_ before!"

"Keep your voice down, James, they'll hear you!" Ginny shushed him. James only shrugged in response. Just then, Lily was at Albus' side and she piped up again, this time with a whole new round of questions for him. She asked about the lessons; what were they like? Were they any fun? Was it true that one of the teachers was a ghost? How long had he been dead? Did Albus have a favourite subject? Did Hagrid still teach Care of Magical Creatures? Had Albus seen him? Were the other teachers nice? Albus, now slightly annoyed at his sister's endless questioning, only gave half-hearted responses, which didn't make Lily very happy.

"You're not _telling_ me anything!" she whined at his elbow. "I want to know, I don't get to go for another _two years!_" Scorpius laughed and smiled at Lily, who turned salmon pink and came over all shy. She was often like that with strangers.

Then the porter was waving them forward, calling for the awaiting students to board to Hogwarts Express; and Albus turned to his parents and hugged them tightly. His father bent down and whispered in his ear, "_Quidditch World Cup next year. I promise"_. Albus grinned, which his father returned. Lily flung her arms around his waist. James ducked when his mother tried to kiss him goodbye; and Scorpius did the same to his mother, but hugged her all the same at the last minute. And then Albus, Rose, Scorpius and James (who was walking a few feet behind so as not to be seen with kid brother) crossed the station platform and stowed their luggage away in the first empty compartment they found. Then James went off to find his friends and left the three of them to find a compartment for themselves. They found one quickly, and made themselves comfortable. Scorpius, who had a set of solid silver Gobstones in his pocket, challenged Albus to a game; Rose pulled out _Transfiguration for Beginners_ and began to read.

The whistle blew sharply into the winter air outside, and the train chugged into life. Albus peered out of the window and waved at his parents and Lily, who were standing not three feet from the carriage. And then they were speeding up, faster and faster, until the train rounded the corner and he couldn't see them anymore. Albus sat back, feeling upset but still excited. He lost the game to Scorpius, and then won against Rose (she had out _Transfiguration for Beginners_ aside for the moment) before their compartment door slid open and Molly Finnigan appeared, looking disgruntled.

"I've found you! I looked everywhere, I didn't see you on the platform so I didn't know where you'd gone" she gasped; she was out of breath. "Can I sit with you?"

"Yeah, of course" Albus pointed to the empty seat next to him, which Molly took straight away. She raised an eyebrow at Albus when she saw that Rose was reading yet again, and proceeded to challenge Scorpius to a Gobstones game, which she won, but only by a narrow margin.

Soon the cityscape of tall blocks of flats, rail side hotels and shops merged into grassy hills and tree-filled valleys, and the sun rose higher in the sky though its light was pale. The four easily fell into conversation; Molly wondered aloud whether it was fair to say that McGonagall would assign them homework on the first day back, and Scorpius decided to bet her three galleons that it wasn't true. Albus had a funny notion that Molly was going to win the bet. Rose muttered something about being too young to be gambling, and Molly stuck her tongue out at her when she wasn't looking. The old lady with the lunch trolley came round at one o'clock, and Albus was surprised when she asked him brightly whether he had enjoyed his first half-term at Hogwarts.

As the sun grew stronger in the sky and the clouds dispersed, the compartment warmed up in the sunlight. Outside, everything was still; there was no visible wind or breeze through the windows, only the zooming of the trees and fields as they swept past the train. Rose had begun reading again, her nose buried deep in a heavy book titled _Practical Defence Against the Dark Arts_ – one of the books she had received for Christmas. There was a drawing of two wizards duelling on the front. Molly was sorting through a pile of Chocolate Frog Cards on the table. And Scorpius, like Albus, was sitting staring out of the window, watching the scenery fly past. They must be going north now, and close to the Scottish border; Albus only knew where they were because instead of green grass, bushes of purple heather and clusters of thistles now covered the hills and fields and valleys.

"Albus, look! I've found your dad's Chocolate Frog Card!" Molly exclaimed suddenly, waving the card in the air. "Read what it says!" She pressed the card into his palm. Feeling rather proud to have a father who was on a Chocolate Frog Card, he flipped it writing-side up and read aloud the small print in gold writing.

"_Harry Potter is internationally renowned for his infamous defeat of the Darkest wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort in 1997 and for wielding the sword of Godric Gryffindor during the Second Wizarding War. He still remains to be the only witch or wizard ever to have survived the terrible Killing Curse. Now Head of the Auror Office at the Ministry of Magic and the most famous of which since Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, he enjoys a quiet life in London with his wife and three children, two of which currently attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."_

Molly's eyes popped open, and Rose had closed her book again; both were looking at him intently.

"I'm mentioned!" Albus said excitedly. "Well, sort of, anyway" he added.

"How can you_ survive_ a _Killing Curse_?"Molly wondered.

"What's the Sword of Gryffindor?" Rose asked.

"Dunno. It must be well-known though, or it wouldn't be on here" Albus said.

"Legend has it, Gryffindor had a sword. Really powerful and all that. I think it's at Hogwarts" Scorpius said

"Really?" Rose gasped. "I've heard of it, but neither mum nor dad ever mentioned that the sword was at Hogwarts" she said. "Do you remember, Al?Did they say anything about it to you?"

Albus didn't remember his parents ever telling him anything about a Sword that belonged to Gryffindor. At least, it didn't connect with anything from his memory that he could recall. He might have heard the story from his parents when he was younger, but he couldn't be sure. He must have only been very small, four or five, perhaps, or maybe six years old at the most. He shook his head at Rose.

"If your dad had Gryffindor's sword, then....What was he using it for?" Scorpius asked.

"No idea" Albus said. "He doesn't like to tell me much about the War"

"My dad doesn't talk much about anything now" Scorpius said sadly. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Not after the, er, _incident_ over Christmas." He turned slightly pink at his words.

"I didn't mean to get you into trouble" Albus said.

"It's nothing. I'll just have to let him ignore me for a bit until he calms down" Scorpius answered.

They didn't talk much after that, and nor was the legendary Sword of Gryffindor further discussed. The waning winter sun began its descent through the quickly-darkening sky, and soon it was time for them to change into their school robes. As twilight fell, and the sky turned blood red in the setting sun, students up and down the carriages were getting ready to disembark. Some went to fetch their smaller pieces of luggage; others wandered along the corridors outside the compartments, talking to friends. When the sky turned a deeper shade of blue and became peppered with stars, the Hogwarts Express began to slow down as it neared Hogsmeade station. The orange lights from the station platform glowed up ahead outside the windows.

Finally, the Hogwarts Express came to a stop and the carriage doors opened. Albus, Rose, Molly and Scorpius filed out of their compartment, pulling their cloaks tighter around themselves against the chilly air that wafted in through the open doors. They collected their luggage, their owls and broomsticks; they transferred them onto waiting carriages (these would take their luggage up to the castle ready for them) and then walked for ten minutes down to the edge of the enormous Black Lake, from which they would take the little wooden boats up to Hogwarts itself.

There was a medium wind in the air and the boats were a little unsteady on the water surface, but Albus didn't need to worry about falling in; he knew that the boats were enchanted by magic and therefore would not capsize easily. He watched as Hogwarts castle came into view once again, a great building of high walls and tall turrets. The windows near the bottom of the castle, the windows in the Great Hall, were alight with yellows and oranges. They got out of the boats, with Rose sighing in relief (she did not like travelling on water as it made her seasick) and made their way up the stone steps leading to the enormous oak front doors, along with the rest of the chattering first years who had gone home for Christmas.

The welcome back feast was as delicious as always; the table was laden with everything you could ever want to eat, and all of it cooked to perfection by the Hogwarts House-Elves, who worked so hard to keep them well-fed. Albus made a mental note to ask his parents how you got into the kitchens, so that he could thank the little elves. Professor McGonagall made a short speech after the last remnants of dessert had been wiped clean from the golden plates;

"To those of you who spent time with your families over the festive period, welcome back to Hogwarts. I hope you have had a pleasant Christmas. I have a few announcements to make; the Quidditch season will be starting again a week from Monday, and any team captains who wish to book the Quidditch field for practice please see your Head of House. Also, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you all that magic is not to be used in the corridors at any time, and that loitering in the corridors between classes is not tolerated. Anyone found doing so will lose points for their house. Finally, all those third-years and above taking Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Hagrid, please see the notice board in the Entrance Hall; due to weather conditions, your classes have been moved indoors and you will need to check what classroom you need to be in. Goodnight"

Professor McGonagall dismissed the students; the Prefects lead them from the Great Hall and up to each of the four respective common rooms. Rose gave the portrait of the Fat Lady the password – "_Yuletide_" – and they filed into the spacious, cosy room. The fire was alight and burning in the grate, filling the room with its warmth. Several students had flopped down into the squashy armchairs that littered the floor, chatting casually to friends and catching up on each other's news. It was only now that Albus realised that he was rather tired after getting up very early that morning; he yawned loudly and, after having a game of Exploding Snap with Scorpius, went up to bed.

***

Albus soon fell back into the rhythm of lessons. Rose had their timetable memorised, so that she, Albus and Molly never got lost on their way to classes. They saw Scorpius in Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic and Herbology; in each class, he always paired up with Albus, and Rose with Molly. In Charms, they had proceeded to attempting to make pens and pencils jump across the desk; Rose, being the only one who had done this successfully by their third Charms lesson, had moved on to egg cups. Astronomy was the most time-consuming subject they had; due to the snow that covered the Hogwarts grounds, it meant that the skies were very thickly clouded and it was difficult to see the moon or any planets through their telescope.

After History of Magic, which was Albus and Molly's least favourite subject as it was so boring and taught by the droning Professor Binns who had a monotone voice like a vacuum cleaner, Scorpius had barely left the classroom with Albus, Molly and Rose when Esmeralda Zabini piped up.

"What are you hanging around with Gryffindors for, Scorpius? Come and hang out with us instead!" Esmeralda called from amidst her Slytherin friends.

"These are my friends" he answered coolly.

"Potter and Weasley!" Esmeralda snorted. "They're hardly _friends_, Scor. More like hangers-on."

"Well, _I_ like them. And I don't think they're 'hangers-on'" he snapped.

"Bet they wouldn't be hanging around with you if they knew the kind of people your family were" Esmeralda said smugly.

"What do you mean?" demanded Scorpius.

"You don't _know_?" Esmeralda smirked. "Honestly, I would have found out everything I could if I had parents who did stuff like _that_."

"What kinds of things?" Scorpius said angrily.

"Well, I'll put it this way, Scor – your father doesn't hide his left arm for nothing" she said cryptically. Scorpius glared at her.

"What do you mean?" he repeated. Esmeralda stared blankly at him. "Esmeralda, _what are you talking about?_" She said nothing. Albus could almost see the rage inside Scorpius bubbling to the surface. What _did_ Esmeralda mean, 'your father doesn't hide his left arm for nothing'? Why was she being so cryptic? Albus was almost as angry as Scorpius was.

"Esmeralda, _what-do-you-mean_?" Scorpius hissed.

"I'm not saying!" she sang in a high-pitched voice. Her green eyes were alight with malice.

"ESMERALDA, TELL ME WHAY YOU'RE ON ABOUT!" Scorpius shouted. The students around them froze and turned to watch. "TELL-ME-NOW!" Esmeralda didn't take her eyes off her cousin. He might have been a bit on the short side for an eleven year old, but he made up for it in his anger. His hands were balled into fists at his sides. Rose looked shocked; Molly was torn between laughter and worry.

And then Esmeralda turned and walked away. Just like that. Albus was confused – why had she wound Scorpius up, and then walked off? Was it to infuriate him further? She had walked a few paces ahead of them when Scorpius took out his wand, aimed it at her back, and yelled, _"Expelliarmus!"_

Esmeralda flew against the wall; there was a sickening crack and she slumped, clutching her left leg in both hands.

"_Mr. Malfoy, what on earth do you think you are doing?_" Professor McGonagall's voice called over the noise that had risen. Two of Esmeralda's friends had gone over to her and tried to help her; the rest just stood there, whispering loudly about what had just happened.

"_Attacking another student! In the corridors!_" she shouted. "Thirty points from Slytherin, and I will see you in my office at seven o'clock this evening, do you understand?"

"Yes" Scorpius muttered crossly.

"I will be writing to your parents about this, Mr. Malfoy. I am very disappointed in you" Professor McGonagall said coldly. Scorpius visibly shuddered.

When she had gone, Scorpius turned to Albus, Rose and Molly. He looked rather pale.

"Dad's going to murder me for this! I'll never be allowed back at home!"


	19. A Different Kind of Reflection

_**A/N: Woohoo, another chapter! This took less time than I thought....anyway, before you read this chappie, I'm just going to clear a few things up for you NextGen-wise. Firstly, Molly Finnigan is the daugher of Seamus Finnigan and Parvati Patil. She is a character I have made up. Seamus divorced Parvati and remarried Lavender Brown, giving Molly her stepbrother and stepsister. Secondly, Esmeralda Zabini is the daughter of Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini, she is the bitch of the story and very, very Pureblood. Titania Nott, who you will meet in the very first few lines of the chapter, is the daughter of Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott. Okay? **_

**_That was a long AN....on with the story then!_**

_***_

_CHAPTER NINETEEN_

_A Different Kind of Reflection_

A Howler came for Scorpius at breakfast the very next day. Albus noticed that Esmeralda looked particularly smug as he picked up the scarlet envelope gingerly from his place at the Slytherin table, as did many of her friends including Georgina Goyle and Titania Nott. Her leg had been broken when Scorpius disarmed her, but had been mended by the matron in a matter of seconds; Scorpius was made to clean the staff store cupboard for the first part of his double detention and had been at it all night.

Scorpius hesitantly opened the Howler, and at once it burst into life.

"SCORPIUS HYPERION MALFOY, I CANNOT _BELIEVE_ THAT YOU WOULD SINK SO LOW AS TO ATTACK YOUR OWN _COUSIN_ IN _SCHOOL CORRIDORS_!" screamed his mother's voice all over the Great Hall. Esmeralda and her friends were laughing; Albus glared at them over the tables. He felt the same kind of unease as he had when James had received his Howler at the beginning of the year.

"...YOU REALLY MUST LEARN TO CONTROL YOUR TEMPER, SCORPIUS MALFOY, OR YOU'LL BE IN BIG TROUBLE..." Scorpius positively blanched and sunk low in his seat so that only his blond hair was visible.

"...YOU BETTER HOPE YOUR FATHER DOESN'T HEAR ABOUT THIS, DO YOU HEAR ME, HE'S ALREADY UNDER A LOT OF PRESSURE AT WORK AND HE DOESN'T NEED ANY MORE TROUBLE FROM YOU! IF YOU BEHAVE LIKE THIS AGAIN, YOU WON'T BE ALLOWED OUT OF THE HOUSE UNTIL YOU LEAVE SCHOOL!" The Howler, which was now smoking at the corners from exertion, burst into flames at the Slytherin table and dissolved into ashes. When he was positive it was all over, Scorpius reappeared, his cheeks as red as the Howler itself with embarrassment and humiliation. Albus gave him a supportive smile when he caught his eye, and Scorpius relaxed slightly.

There was a chorus of laughter from Esmeralda and her friends in the wake of the Howler; they were pointing and sniggering from a little way down the table. Scorpius flushed darker. Turning to his left, Albus saw Rose's brow furrow with apprehension; a little way ahead, his cousin and Head Girl Victoire was looking disapproving and grumpy. This was exactly the kind of thing she hated. Albus took a long gulp of pumpkin juice, all the while glaring at Esmeralda. How could she tease him, wind him up like that? Weren't they _family_? _But James winds you up_ said a small voice in Albus' head, _and _he's _your family_. That was true, James did wind him up...and he was his brother...but that was just harmless sibling bickering. This was borderline bullying.

And then, so suddenly that if he hadn't looked away from Esmeralda he wouldn't have noticed it happening, Scorpius got up from the Slytherin table and almost ran out of the Great Hall.

"Oh!" Rose gasped. "D'you think he's alright?"

"Should we go after him?" Molly suggested. Albus wasn't sure what to do. Scorpius was his friend, and if he was upset, he should go and see if he was okay. But if they left, Esmeralda would no doubt find a way of taunting them too, spouting stuff about hanging around with Gryffindors like before. He finished the rest of his breakfast and drained his goblet, then said to Rose and Molly, "Come on, let's go and find him" They left the Great Hall, ignoring the stares of the Slytherins and students from other houses.

And they looked for Scorpius everywhere. It was a weekend, so they had no lessons. They searched in the library, in all the corridors, looked in every empty classroom they came across; they looked in the bathrooms, the vegetable patches and down by the Black Lake. They couldn't find him anywhere. Rose became anxious, and suggested they go and find Professor McGonagall, while Albus racked his brains to try and figure out where he might have gone.

And then it came to him. Didn't Scorpius say he liked animals?

"He's gone to Hagrid's!" Albus cried. "Why didn't I think of it straight away?" Rose and Molly looked blank.

"Are you sure?" Molly asked. Albus nodded. The three set off across the grounds, being careful not to slip on the frozen, solid earth. Clambering down the steep slope leading to Hagrid's hut, they had to keep a close eye on their footing; some larger rocks and stones were hidden under the snow and it was difficult to keep steady.

Albus knocked enthusiastically on Hagrid's front door, and he opened it almost immediately. Even though it must have been warm in the hut (they could hear a log fire crackling nearby), he was wearing a large moleskin overcoat and enormous dragon hide boots.

"Ah, it's yeh three! I was wonderin' when yeh were goin' ter come and visit" he beamed.

"Yeah...it's been a bit busy, that's why we haven't visited until now. Hagrid...is Scorpius in there?" Albus said. Hagrid's smile faded slightly.

"Yeah, he is. I suppose you've come to find him, have yeh?" Hagrid asked. "Well, come in, come in...I've got a fire goin', it should be warm enough fer yeh" They crossed the threshold into Hagrid's tiny cabin. The flowery pink umbrella was resting on top of the stove, underneath which was a large log fire, blazing merrily. Fang lay on a patchwork blanket in the corner, and at the scrubbed circular stable looking as if someone had just shot his hamster, was Scorpius. He gave Albus, Rose and Molly a weak smile when they joined him at the table.

"Now" Hagrid said, setting a pot of tea and some cups down on the table. "Tell me abou' this Esmeralda Zabini." His black twinkling eyes were anxious over his bushy black beard.

"She's in Slytherin" Rose said coldly. "And she's horrible"

"I wouldn' expect anythin' less, tell you the truth. Her family are one o' the very few left today who still think that being Pureblood is what's most important" Hagrid explained. "The Zabinis are one o' the only families who've kept their loyalties to the Dark side, even after twenty odd years, mind yeh. Bad business, they are...they're not liked by many people, the Zabinis."

Albus contemplated this. If Esmeralda came from a family who thought that being Pureblood was the most important thing in life, that they were still loyal to the Dark side...loyal to Lord Voldemort...then what did that make Esmeralda? What did it mean? Her parting words to Scorpius came back to him. _Your father doesn't hide his left arm for nothing_.

"But Hagrid, if Esmeralda's family are still loyal to You-Know-Who, why aren't they in Azkaban?" Molly interjected. Hagrid gave a loud sigh, and took a large drink from his cup.

"'Cause nowadays, it's only the really bad ones, the hardcore followers that get sent ter Azkaban. Everyone else gets cleared. Most people 'ave changed, mind, turned ter our side after the war. There are hardly any families left who still delude themselves in ter thinkin' they 'ave a duty to You-Know-Who" Hagrid said. There was a pause in which Fang gave a loud snore.

"What about my family?" Scorpius said quietly. It was the first time he had spoken since their arrival. Hagrid turned to him.

"Yer parents are good people, Scorpius. Did well fer themselves, even though they had a hard time at first, especially yer father" he said. "Don't let anyone, especially people like Esmeralda Zabini, tell yer anythin' different, understand?"

Scorpius nodded.

"Yer best get back up ter the castle...the teachers don' like the students ter be outside when the weather's like this" Hagrid got up from the table, and the others followed suit. "And don' listen ter people like Esmeralda, any of yer"

Once they were back inside, they decided to go to the library; they had a copious amount of homework to get through.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Albus asked Scorpius, pulling _Charm it Yourself! 101 Ways to Successful Charms_ from the shelf in front of him. Professor Flitwick had assigned them a foot-long essay on how the theory of Levitation Charms had to be adapted when attempting to levitate heavier objects.

"Yeah, I'm okay now" Scorpius replied. "I just needed to cool off a bit." They found Rose and Molly at a table near the back end of the library; Rose had _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ propped up in front of her against a large stack of books. Molly was scanning the index of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, evidently looking for information to help her with their Potions essay: 'Choose a common potions ingredient and, with examples, describe its properties and how it is used in potion-making'.

Albus looked down at his parchment. What had Professor Flitwick said about Levitation Charms? He wasn't sure he could remember. He opened his mouth to ask Rose for help, but she glared over the top of her book at him in a _you-should-pay-more-attention_ way. It was nice and warm in the library, because their table was right next to a large torch bracket which was burning brightly. Scorpius, who was trying to tackle their Transfiguration essay, was doodling absent-mindedly on the corner of his parchment and watching the snow drift past the window outside.

Soon it was lunchtime, and they joined the rest of their house in the Great Hall. Albus noticed that Esmeralda was looking extremely smug at the Slytherin table, clearly enjoying immensely that she had got Scorpius into trouble. After lunch, they decided to go into the grounds for a walk; their homework could wait until later. But they were stopped right at the front doors by Professor McGonagall, whose square spectacles were perched on the end of her long, pointed nose.

"I was hoping to find you, Mr. Malfoy. Your second detention will be tonight at seven o'clock. You will be helping Mr. Filch clean the trophies in the Trophy Room, and you will not use magic. Yes, Mr. Malfoy" she said, as Scorpius' mouth dropped open, "you will not use any magic. I expect you in my office in time so that I can escort you there." She left, her long emerald cloak billowing behind her.

"No magic!" Scorpius exclaimed. "It'll take me from now until I'm retired to clean all that stuff, there's loads of trophies in there!"

Another distraction came in the form of Argus Filch, the bad-tempered caretaker who was loathed deeply by all the students at Hogwarts. He was old, his straggly pale hair going grey, pouchy cheeks lined and wrinkly; but he was still as foul as ever. He seemed convinced that Albus, Rose, Scorpius and Molly were 'up to something', and eyed them carefully with suspicion all the way down the corridor.

"Why was Filch being so suspicious?" Molly complained moodily. "We haven't done anything!"

In the end, they never did go outside; they returned to the library, to the furthest corner from Madam Pince's desk, where they could talk freely without being overheard or yelled at by the vulture-like librarian for breaking the library code of conduct. Albus sat back and thought about what had been on his father's Chocolate Frog Card. How could anyone survive a curse that killed you? That was the point, wasn't it, that it _killed_ you? So how come his father never died? He had heard of Muggles who claimed to cheat death, or come back from the dead. He had seen programmes about magicians and illusionists and psychics who had defied life-threatening conditions. There were even priests and ministers who claimed to have 'come back from the light' or to have seen their life 'flash before their eyes'. But that was mostly in their heads; it never really happened, they just _thought_ it had. But this really had happened, because you can't be healed from a Curse. And then something floated to the front of Albus' mind....a far off memory, fuzzy and unclear, but a memory all the same. He was small, maybe four or five, and he was in front of a house, but it wasn't a house at all....it had been destroyed, one half of the house blown clean away as though by an explosion, from a bomb or something....and a fence, with a gate that had messages written on it, but he couldn't read them then....

He didn't know much about his father's life or what he had done when he was at school; only the exciting bits or the good bits. He didn't have the whole picture. But what _was_ that house? What had happened to it? Did it have anything to do with his father surviving the Killing Curse?

***

That night, Albus had a very worrying dream. He was standing in front of the house again, but he was the same age as he was now. He was alone, and it was dark; but then his father was right next to him, and he looked fearful, but Albus didn't know why. And then, suddenly, a hooded figure came out of the trees close by and raised his wand; there was a blinding flash of light, and his father fell; but in a split second, he was standing right next to Albus again, clearly alive and obviously in no way hurt. He turned back to the house, and one half of it had been blown apart, as if by a bomb or another form of explosion....

Albus shot up in bed, sweat dripping from his face. His heart was racing. He didn't know why he hadn't thought to make the connection before. He knew the hooded figure must have been Lord Voldemort (though he had no idea what he looked like, and wasn't sure he wanted to know either) and the green light must have been the Killing Curse. But his father had survived in the dream; just like in real life...was his dream trying to tell him that _Lord Voldemort_ tried to kill his father first, before he killed him several years later? Was that the reason behind it? And the house....the house must have been destroyed when the curse didn't work.

***

Next morning at breakfast, Albus desperately wanted to tell Rose and Molly about the dream and what he'd found out, but he'd no time to get a word in edgeways. Apparently, James had got into trouble again and Rose was seething. He had planned to upturn a suit of armour on top of any innocent bystander which came along the Charms corridor, only the innocent bystander turned out to be none other than tiny Professor Flitwick, who had been coming out of his classroom. The suit of armour knocked him out cold and he was taken to the hospital wing. James had received a month's worth of detention, and Albus sat tense while he ate his cereal and porridge, hoping that he wouldn't see another Howler in James' owl's beak.

But then something happened that drove his dream right out of his mind. Scorpius came rushing up to them during Potions and set up his cauldron between Albus and Rose, ignoring the look of deep hatred that Esmeralda gave him from across the dungeon. Professor Slughorn had asked them to prepare a simple Sleeping Draught, the mild kind that they used at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries to help sedate patients who were in a lot of pain. Albus was just counting out the required amount of dried thistle heads when Scorpius whispered to him.

"Did you ever know that your dad got an award when he was at school here?" Albus nearly dropped his brass weighing scales, halfway through weighing out glittering black beetle eyes.

"No" he whispered back. "Why?"

"I saw a trophy with your dad's name on it last night, when I was doing my detention for McGonagall. Rose's dad got one too. It was pretty big, all silver and engraved. I thought he might have told you about it" Scorpius added his own beetle eyes to his cauldron and stirred it three times clockwise; the liquid inside turned from dishwater grey to a deep purple. Albus felt slightly hurt. Why hadn't his father mentioned that he'd got an _award_ when he'd been at Hogwarts? And Rose's dad, too?

"What did they get the awards for?" Albus asked, curious now, though a bit upset the more he thought about it.

"I don't know, I didn't see it properly, but it looked like something important. I can show you later if you like, after lessons have finished. I know where it is" Scorpius offered.

"Okay" Albus said. "I'll bring the Maurauder's Map with me, so we won't get caught by Filch or McGonagall"

"Or both" Scorpius added.

***

As promised, Scorpius took him down to the Trophy Room after lessons, when everyone else had gone back to the common room. Albus had the Map with him, to keep an eye out for anyone who could reprimand them if they were caught, including Prefects and Victoire; but she was well out of their way, in the library.

Albus was anxious to see this trophy of his father's. Why hadn't he known about it before? The more he thought about all of this, more upset he became that he was kept in the dark for so long. How much longer was his father planning on keeping stuff from him? It didn't seem fair, really, that he wasn't being told anything. Scorpius seemed to feel the same way; because he grumbled on the way there that he had also seen his father's name on a list of old Prefects.

He wondered what kind of thing his father must have done to win an award for himself, and he also wondered whether his Uncle Ron had received his award for the same reason as his father. Albus had been to the Trophy Room before for a detention when he had accidentally punched Scorpius in the face, but he hadn't taken a good look at it then. He had only seen the Quidditch Cup from 1996 that had his father's name on it and not much else. He didn't know what other kinds of awards or trophies Hogwarts offered; that was something that Rose might want to know, not him. So it was difficult to picture his father winning an award without knowing the kind of thing he might have done to get it in the first place.

The snuck around the corner and down a narrow flight of stone steps, and then they were in the Trophy Room. It was a large room filled with glass display cases like the ones in Quality Quidditch Supplies, but they didn't have brooms or Bludgers in them; these were filled with trophies, awards and prizes of all shapes and sizes. Scorpius immediately led Albus down to the far end of the room, where there was a very large case with not many trophies inside it.

"There" he said, pointing to the trophy on Albus' left near the front. "That one. Rose's dad's one is behind it, just there" He pointed to an identical trophy a little way away. He leaned in to get a closer look at what was engraved onto the front.

_Special Award for Services to Hogwarts School_

_Harry James Potter_

_1992_

And that was it. He felt a jolt at seeing his father's name there; it wasn't quite _pride_, exactly, but it was something else....There was no date, no reason for the award; just a name and the year. What were these 'services to the school'? It had been awarded in 1992, when his father had been twelve years old. What would a twelve year old have done that had earned him an award for 'services to the school'? Albus looked closer; and was surprised to see that the same thing was written on his Uncle Ron's trophy. _Special Award for Services to Hogwarts School, Ronald Bilius Weasley, 1992. _So they had probably received their awards for the same thing. But what was it?

It was then that Albus told Scorpius about his dream, and what he had realised about Lord Voldemort. Scorpius' blue eyes widened.

"You think You-Know-Who tried to kill your _dad_?" he asked.

"Yeah, because otherwise, why would my dad have killed him anyway twenty years ago?" Albus said. Scorpius thought for a moment, and then shrugged.

"It makes sense..." he agreed, but there was something in his voice that gave Albus the funny feeling that Scorpius didn't believe him.

"You don't think I'm exaggerating, do you?" Albus asked.

"No" Scorpius said. "I'm just trying to make sense of it. Why would You-Know-Who want to kill your dad in the first place? Why not anybody else?"

"Your guess is as good as mine" Albus said. His eyes fell back onto the trophy. What _had_ his father got it for?

"Filch is coming" said Scorpius suddenly, pointing to the Map. The little dot labelled 'Argus Filch' was indeed getting closer to the Trophy Room. They ducked behind a heavy stone gargoyle next to a glass case and hid themselves as best they could. The door to the Trophy Room opened, and Filch limped in, leaning on a bent old walking stick. He went over to one of the display cases and took out a bunch of keys. Albus couldn't see what he was doing, but by the time he had finished the glass case was empty and Filch was limping away, shutting the door behind him with a snap.

"Phew" Scorpius breathed. "What did he want, anyway?" Albus shrugged.

"I think he took something out of one of the cases" he said. They came out from behind the statue and Albus checked the Maurauder's Map again.

"I think it's safe for us to go back" he told Scorpius.

They left the Trophy Room as quietly as they could, and Albus didn't forget to tap the Map and say "_Mischief managed!"_ so that it was wiped clean. Scorpius left at the end of the first floor corridor to go down to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons; Albus would need to go up six floors to get to Gryffindor Tower. All the way there, he thought about what he had seen on the trophy and in his dream. If Lord Voldemort really had tried to kill his father, why hadn't he died? Why had he tried to kill _him_, of all the people in the world? What was so special about his father that Lord Voldemort chose _him_ has his target? It didn't seem to make any sense; any explanation Albus came up with didn't fit the information and wouldn't be possible anyway. He planned to ask Rose what she thought. She read a lot of books; perhaps she would have some kind of theory.

When he got to the Gryffindor common room, he found Rose sitting in one of the squashy armchairs by the fire. She was reading again; this time, it was a heavy, old-looking book titled _Great Feats in 20__th__ Century Magic_.

"Oh, good, you're here!" she cried when he walked in. "I think I might have found some more information about Uncle Harry" she said. "In here. There's a whole chapter dedicated to him" She pointed to the heading that topped the page. _The Boy Who Lived_. Why hadn't it occurred to Albus that surviving the Killing Curse was impressive enough to get yourself into a book?

"D'you think it says why he survived?" Albus asked her.

"I'm not saying anything, just read it" Rose replied, handing him the book. Eagerly, he took it from her and began to read at once.

_By now at the height of his power, Lord Voldemort was spreading fear across the wizarding world; deaths and disappearances became daily fact, and more and more wizarding families were leaving Britain in the hope that they would escape this Dark wizard's clutches. Dementors swooped the streets by day and night; Muggles were killed in their dozens and hundreds more forced to operate on Lord Voldemort's ordered by means of the Imperius Curse. Perhaps the most infamous cases of wizard and Muggle torture during the First Wizarding War were those of Frank and Alice Longbottom, who were tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange until they lost all mental capacity, and the brutal murders of Fabian and Gideon Prewett by Antonin Dolohov. All were desperate for something to happen – anything – that would eradicate Lord Voldemort's horrifying tyranny across the world. _

_But they wouldn't have to wait for long. On October 31__st__, 1981, something happened that would shock the wizarding world and leave the magic population rejoicing in the towns and villages across Britain and the world for months to come. _

_On that evening, Lord Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow, a little wizarding village in central England. He came to pay a visit to the Potters – to kill them. To this day, the story of what happened next is as legendary as that of the deadly duel between Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindlewald in 1945, thirty-six years previously. Lord Voldemort murdered Lily and James Potter in a matter of seconds; leaving their one-year-old son Harry alone with the Darkest wizard the magical population has ever seen. Lily gave her life for her son, and therefore branded him with the most powerful magic anyone could ever possess; the power of love. _

_When Lord Voldemort turned his wand on the one-year-old, the Killing Curse had been attempting to use backfired; the house was blown apart, Lord Voldemort's powers had been destroyed; and one-year-old Harry Potter was alive and in no way harmed at all. This small boy had somehow broken Lord Voldemort's strength; he was left barely alive and in no sense human. _

_This astonishing event was a day of happiness all over the wizarding world; they were free of Lord Voldemort's clutches and life could return to normal. Parties and celebrations in Harry's name were held all over the country for days on end. _

_From then on, Harry Potter's name became infamous. Every child in a wizarding family knew who he was; wizarding parents would tell the story of the Dark Lord's defeat to their children; all looked upon this small child as the hero of the wizarding world. And so it would last for thirteen years, until Lord Voldemort would rise again in 1994 and the wizarding world would once again be thrown into a another great War even more terrifying than the first. This would last until 1997, when Lord Voldemort was finally killed for good by the infamous young wizard on 2__nd__ May. _

_Harry Potter became The Boy Who Lived, and will remain so for the rest of wizarding history. _

Albus stared at the page in shock. Lord Voldemort had tried to kill his father when he was just a baby, but the Curse had backfired; and, barely alive, Voldemort had fled the country....wizards across the globe had celebrated when Lord Voldemort disappeared....and Harry, his father, was a hero. Albus did not know how he felt about this. Knowing how it had really happened made him look at his father as a much braver person, the kind of person who was brave because they had suffered a lot in a short space of time...He remembered standing on Platform Nine and Three Quarters on September the first, and all those people staring, looking at his father...shocked to see him with a family, perhaps? Famous Harry Potter, with a wife and children just like any other person....it must have seemed surprising to them. To Albus, James and Lily, he was just Dad. Just their father. He wasn't famous Harry Potter at home. He was just Harry. Maybe that was what his father wanted.

Maybe that was why he never told Albus about his life, about the things he had done and why everyone seemed to know who he was, wherever they went.

His father's secrecy seemed to make so much more sense now. He'd never liked the limelight, being the centre of attention all the time; he hadn't wanted Lily and James and Albus to grow up feeling that they had too much to live up to. He'd wanted them to have a chance to have a normal life, Albus could see that now. A life just like any other wizarding children. A life that wasn't overshadowed by an infamous father, or an equally famous mother who had once been the Holyhead Harpies' star Chaser.

He didn't blame his father for wanting that. And, if he was perfectly honest, he wouldn't have it any other way either.

**_A/N: You know the drill by now. Whatever you thought - whether you loved it, hated it, or aren't really that sure what you think, just review and give me your feedback. I value your support! It keeps this story going! Without you, _Albus Potter and the Sword of Godric Gryffindor_ - the second installment of my Albus Potter series - might never get written! And neither would _Albus Potter and the Fall of the Dark Lord. _But I won't give away story titles now (even though I just did). More of that will come at the end. Feel free to speculate all you like about the next story. Let me know your ideas when you review._**

**_HPfangirl4life x_**


	20. AUTHORS NOTE: IMPORTANT

Hello there!

I know I've sent a couple of messages out saying that chapter nineteen was not the last chapter of the book and that there was much more to come (four chapters, actually) – but I changed my mind halfway through writing chapter twenty and now the story has been shortened a bit. The previous chapter was in fact the last chapter of _Albus Potter and the Mirror of Erised_, but don't worry, there will be more to come!

First of all I would like to thank all my lovely reviewers who made my day whilst writing this first instalment of the story; at least I know it didn't completely suck and that someone did like it! I would also like to thank anyone who even read this story, because you've shown your interest in it and for that I am grateful. As I have said, at least I know I didn't stuff this up completely. Thirdly, a big shout out to all those fantastic readers who put me and this story on their favourites and/or author alerts lists. Finally, a big thank you to all those readers who have stuck with my post-Deathly Hallows rambling plots until the end.

Now, I did say that there was more to come – and there is! Soon, very soon, I will be uploading the first chapter of book two, which is called _Albus Potter and the Sword of Godric Gryffindor_. Please feel free to make of this title whatever you want. Go on, have a guess what the plot will be and when you read the story, you'll see if you guessed right!

The third book in the series is still being fine-tuned plotwise, because I'm still not sure how that one will play out; but, starting from book three, some of the bigger questions raised in the _Mirror of Erised_ will begin to be answered courtesy of me, HPfangirl4life, who writes the character's dialogue and therefore in control of what they say – so really, the characters will be answering the questions. Get ready for some mind-boggling (or mind-boggling to a group of thirteen year olds, anyway) stuff about prophecies, Death Eaters and The Chosen One. But I won't say any more here, or I'll spoil the story for you!

Also coming up in the _Sword of Godric Gryffindor_ are the return of a (very) familiar face, a thousand-year-old secret and lots more magic and wand action (_spellwork_, you perverted people) than the first book, in which Professors Snape and Dumbledore get their fair share of the action after being stuck in paintings for twenty years.

So join Albus, Rose, Scorpius and Molly for their second year at Hogwarts – in _Albus Potter and the Sword of Godric Gryffindor_, coming soon to FanFiction!

Aloha and muchos gracias,

HPfangirl4life


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